


Into the Darkness They Go

by remanth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Darkness, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 36,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mark is finally gone but it opened the door to the Darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Building

**Author's Note:**

> This jumps off from the season 10 finale and will follow my own invention of season 11. There will eventually be Sabriel and Destiel though it will happen later on. Work title is from Edna St. Vincent Millay.

It always came down to this somehow. The fights and the blood and the deaths building up to an impossible choice. The world on one hand and family on the other. After listening to Death’s explanation, and his offered solution, Dean couldn’t do anything but stare at the being he’d called. Death was terrifying but there was also something... not quite human but at least relatable about him. They shared a love of greasy food and Dean couldn’t help but capitalize on it every time he called Death for a favor.

At first, he didn’t even consider Death’s offer. There was no way he could ever consciously harm his brother. How could Death even expect him to kill Sam? But, as Dean thought about Death’s offer, he realized it was the best choice in a shitty slew of choices. What else could he do? Let Sam remove the Mark with the Book of the Damned and let the Darkness free? Live with the Mark and hope he could keep it in check? That only ended in more blood and innocents dead, as Cain proved. The only way to save as many people as possible, and keep the Darkness locked wherever God put it, was to take Death up on his offer. 

So Dean called Sam, let his brother find him in the Mexican restaurant he’d holed up in. The hope and worry on Sam’s face when he walked into the restaurant sent a pang through Dean’s chest. Sam still believed there was a way out, that removing the Mark was more important than anything else. Maybe he even believed that whatever happened afterwards, they could deal with. Dean didn’t believe anymore. All he knew was that this had to be done. The only problem was convincing Sam.

And Sam reacted exactly as Dean expected on being told he needed to die. What sane person would just accept it willingly, after all? A lot could be said about both of them but they both had a sense of self-preservation that wouldn’t let them die for no reason. They had to be convinced it was the right thing to do in order to go to their deaths. It took some harsh but true words from Dean, and a reminder from Death that Sam had avoided their last appointment, before Sam was convinced of the merit of the idea. Everyone around them was dying, they killed more innocents than saved anymore. Their lives had started out as hunting monsters and saving people but had built to a supernatural version of a nuclear meltdown. No one was safe anymore and all they did was cause more harm.

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe that this was his brother talking. Dean had convinced him to come back to the life, to save the people they could by hunting. They were _good_. This couldn’t be Dean. Finally, Sam couldn’t bear hearing anymore and snapped. He threw a punch at Dean, hoping to defeat whatever had taken the form of his brother. Or, if this was really Dean, to knock some sense into him. They fought back and forth, fists flying and grunts sounding when punches landed. But Sam had almost never been able to beat his brother. He was knocked to his knees and Dean kept punching. Several blows landed on Sam’s face, each more painful than the last. He felt his face split open, the sharp scent of blood filling the air. And Sam knew he had lost.

“All right,” Sam finally said, voice breathless as he spoke. He looked up at Dean, the side of his face bruised and bloody. There was pain on his face, the pain of truth mingled with hope finally disappearing. “I’ll do it.”

Sam struggled to keep his breathing steady and even but failed. He was terrified even as he was convinced this was the right thing to do. The ingredients for the spell were nearly impossible to find, even for Cas. This was the only way to save the world. He’d dived into Lucifer’s cage in Hell to save the world. Dying would be so much easier. At least there was the possibility of not being tortured for an eternity by merely dying. He looked up at Dean, fighting back tears. He wasn’t going to make this harder for his brother.

“If you’ll do me the honor,” Death said when Dean looked at him. Death handed over his scythe to Dean and both Winchesters sucked in a deep breath. Neither had thought that Dean would be the one to kill Sam.

Dean hefted the scythe, staring down at Sam. There was a determined expression on his face though his eyes were full of pain. He had to do this. There was no other good way to keep people safe. Besides, the world was probably better off without them in it. They’d stopped doing good a long time ago.

“Close your eyes,” Dean told Sam when he couldn’t bear looking into his brother’s eyes anymore. He couldn’t kill Sam when he was looking at him like that.

Sam didn’t shake his head but it was a close thing. He just stared at Dean, still struggling to keep the tears back. They prickled in his eyes and so many were gathering that it felt like he was looking at Dean from underwater. Still, he didn’t close them. Not yet. Just a few more moments of seeing, of life. Part of him still fought his decision to die, especially when Dean took Death’s scythe. It was more visceral, more final, if it were Dean that killed him rather than Death.

“You will never convince me that you are anything but good,” Sam whispered in a last ditch effort to convince Dean of his side. He waited with baited breath, praying to a God he was sure wasn’t listening that Dean would believe him. There was a softening in Dean’s eyes and Sam felt hope jolt through him. But that hope faded when Dean took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“Sammy, close your eyes,” Dean said, voice tender and soft. It was the same voice Dean had used when they were young and Sam hadn’t been able to sleep because of nightmares. It was the voice that young Sam had clung to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm him. Dean could feel the same pain that was clear on Sam’s face. It would kill him to kill his brother. But it had to be better than the alternatives. It had to be.

Sam stared at Dean for another timeless moment, trying to gather the courage to close his eyes. He dropped his head and finally let his eyes slip closed, a tear tracking down his cheek. To have everything they’d worked for end like this hurt worse than he’d ever believed. Hurt worse than Dean thinking he was a monster, than holding Ruby for Dean to stab her, than losing Dean and Castiel when Dick exploded, than killing himself to complete the trials to close Hell. He waited in frozen silence, muscles tense in order to keep himself in place. Maybe he’d end up going to Heaven and see the family he’d lost.

“Forgive me,” Dean said, taking a deep breath and swinging the scythe. It whistled over Sam’s head and Sam flinched. Dean continued the swing, turning his body smoothly and slamming the scythe into Death’s side. It pierced him completely, the end of the curved blade sticking out of Death’s other side. For a moment, Dean thought he saw understanding and... gratefulness on Death’s face before he crumbled.

Sam’s eyes whipped open as he heard the scythe slam into something that was decidedly not him. He watched with wide, amazed eyes as Death died. He got to his feet, breathing hard and feeling lightheaded at the fact that he was still alive. He and Dean exchanged glances and Dean shrugged. Nothing happened, silence reigned in the restaurant. The scythe had crumbled away with Death, leaving them alone in the place.

“Uh, are you okay?” Sam asked, the first question that came to his mind. 

“Fantastic,” Dean replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I think I killed Death.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied inanely, shaking his head. They’d made it through and they were both still alive. Maybe there was a better way out of this after all. As he opened his mouth to say so, thunder rumbled in the distance. A bolt of lightning ripped through the ceiling and latched onto Dean’s arm. He heard Dean scream, his arm held straight out from him. The Mark disappeared slowly, scrubbed away by the lightning. Then the lightning disappeared and silence reigned again.

“It’s gone,” Dean said, amazement and a touch of fear in his voice. “The Mark. It’s gone.”

“The spell,” Sam said, staring at his brother’s clean arm. “Cas and Rowena must have managed to cast the spell.”

They both looked around, bodies tensed. Death had said the Mark kept the Darkness at bay. Now that it was gone, was it going to attack them? How would they even fight it? Darkness was incredibly vague and unenlightening. Did it have physical form? Was it like demon smoke? Something they couldn’t even imagine? But nothing happened and Sam felt the vaguest stirrings of hope again. Maybe they were okay. Maybe, just maybe, this time they were going to get away without causing more damage.

“Let’s go find Cas,” Dean said as he grabbed one of the tamales from the platter on the bar. “I don’t know what the spell needed but we should make sure he’s okay.”

“Yeah, and check on Rowena,” Sam muttered as he snuck a handful of nacho chips and followed after Dean. “I don’t know what the last two ingredients for the spell were and we need to make sure she’s still chained.”

They stepped outside and the last vestiges of peace and hope they carried disappeared. The sky rumbled and roiled, dark clouds rolling in. Thunder cracked across the sky as dark lightning strike after dark lightning strike hit the ground around them. Then, the ground cracked as black smoke shot up out of it. The smoke gathered together into a giant cloud in the field nearby, growing and growing. When it seemed like the cloud couldn’t grow any further, it exploded and Darkness rushed towards them. It was eerily familiar, like a rush of demons heading towards them. But it was just dark, no red lightning streaks that denoted individual demons.

They ran to the Impala, hoping to get away from the gathering cloud. Dean threw the Impala into reverse after it rumbled to life, praying that they could get away in time. But fate was not on their side, not this time. The Impala’s rear tire slipped into a pothole, making Dean’s head nearly hit the roof. Sam’s did and he grunted at the impact. The tires spun as Dean tried to get them out of the pothole, muddy water spraying out behind them. No matter how he gunned the engine, they were stuck solid. And the Darkness was nearly upon them. The last thing Dean saw before he closed his eyes and braced for an impact was roiling black smoke just outside the windshield.

A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Both Winchesters opened their eyes hesitantly and looked out the windshield. A golden light filled their eyes, holding back the Darkness roiling in front of them. A human form stood in the center of that light, arms outstretched and six golden brown wings spread out protectively. Sam gasped when the head turned to reveal Gabriel’s tawny eyes and mocking smirk.

“What the hell did you two muttonheads do now?” Gabriel screamed above the howling cloud. “Wait, don’t tell me. Get out and run! I’ll hold the Darkness back long enough for you to get some distance. Run!”


	2. Red Tape

She sank down onto a chair and heaved a sigh of relief. She was finally safe, free of the chains that damned Winchester had put on her. And, knowing her own magic as well as she did, her son was dead. Likely the angel was going to die too. Mortals couldn’t stand up well to her attack dog spell, dying after a short time. Whatever strength an angel had would probably only last a little bit longer.

Looking down at the books in her hands, Rowena let out a delighted little laugh. The Book of the Damned was hers along with Nadia’s codex. Power sat in her lap, power that was all hers for the taking. And she didn’t have to worry at all about the Grand Coven anymore. Not when Olivette was a hamster and the Grand Coven was nowhere near as powerful as Rowena had once believed.

The hotel room she’d taken was completely the opposite of the dank warehouse that damned Winchester had chained her up in. It was warm and comfortable, the cream and green decorating scheme reminding her a little of a sunlit field. The queen-sized bed was covered in a green and brown blanket and there were two extra pillows sitting against the headboard. She’d cast a spell on the nice young man downstairs, getting him to let her into the room at no cost. Her next spell had been to get some new clothes. Her dress was getting rather dirty and smelly. It was disgusting.

It wasn’t only her dress that was getting dirty. She needed a shower. Tucking the books underneath the bed, Rowena took a shower. She luxuriated in the hot water spilling over her, scrubbing herself with the soap twice and shampooing her hair twice before stepping out of the shower. Her new dresses had appeared in the room and Rowena chose one in red the color of fresh blood. It fit her mood and the books she was planning on looking through.

She pulled the two books out from underneath the bed and sat back down on the chair next to the desk in the corner. Opening the Book to the first page, Rowena started deciphering the symbols. Nadia’s codex was incredibly helpful though she had no idea how the witch had written it. Had she had the Book at the time? Well, it didn’t particularly matter. She had both of them now and the power was hers. The only thing left was to determine exactly how she wanted to use her new power.

About halfway through the book, Rowena came across a spell that caught her interest immediately. It told of power, a way of increasing one’s own personal power and drawing it from others. It was deceptively simple as well, needing only two ingredients besides the words. To increase her own personal power, Rowena would need a few hairs from her head and some of her blood. The spell itself was short and simple. There was no reason _not_ to cast it, at least that Rowena could see. She pulled a few hairs out of her head and cut her thumb to drip a few drops onto the desk. She dropped the hair onto the blood and read through the spell one more time. Then, she spoke the words.

Nothing happened. She waited, studying the blood and hair on the desk. A few moments passed and still nothing. Reading over the spell again in the book, Rowena determined that she’d done everything correctly. She took a breath to speak the spell again when a sardonic voice sounded behind her.

“You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?” the voice asked, laughing nastily. “There’s red tape you have to cut through, dear, things you have to learn to use that Book. My codex isn’t enough.”

“Who are you?” Rowena asked sharply, twisting around in her chair to glare at an apparition that stood completely at her ease next to the bed. The woman was somewhat misty and flickered every once ina while, proof that she wasn’t alive. She wore a black dress that was tattered at the bottom. Her long hair was tangled around her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“I would have thought saying it was my codex would have given you enough of a hint,” the ghost clicked her tongue as she shook her head at Rowena. “I am Nadia. I wrote that codex that you’re using to read the book. And that spell you just cast won’t work. Not yet.”

“Why?” Rowena asked, settling back in her chair and resting a hand possessively over both books. “There’s nothing on the page itself saying I need anything else for the spell. And why are you here? What do you want?”

Nadia shook her head again and flickered out of existence. She appeared again on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. She appeared completely comfortable and at home. That set Rowena’s teeth on edge. Even when she’d worked with the Grand Coven, Rowena hadn’t liked being part of a group. She much preferred to lead. But Nadia had information she needed, information that she wanted.

“I’m here because my codex is free again. When it was trapped in that box, so was I as I’m bound to it,” Nadia explained, pointing towards the books under Rowena’s hand. “As for what I want, that’s twofold. One, I want revenge on the people who burned me at the stake. The Men of Letters. That, I can do myself now that I’m free. And two, I want to be alive again. The Book can manage that. I just can’t manage it on my own.”

“Oh ho ho ho,” Rowena chuckled, stroking the book. “You can’t cast magic when you’re dead, can you. You need a living witch to bring you back to life.”

“Exactly,” Nadia nodded, a pleased smile tugging at her lips. It was patronizing, the kind of smile one would give a student who’d gotten the correct answer to a difficult question. It grated on Rowena. “A living witch and one who can read my codex and the Book. That means you.”

“It very well might but what do I get out of it?” Rowena asked airily, turning her back on Nadia and pretending to page through the Book. “I can read it on my own and cast spells on my own. What could you possibly offer me to help you?”

“Like I said, there’s red tape,” Nadia replied, her voice sounding bored. She studied Rowena’s back, an annoyed look crossing her face. Surely the woman could see what she could offer? Especially after the spell failed? She’d thought Rowena was intelligent and cunning but maybe she was wrong. “The power spell failed. Other spells will fail too unless you know the key to them.”

“I have your codex,” Rowena shrugged, turning a page in the book. She didn’t bother looking at Nadia to talk to her, hoping the snub was rubbing the ghost the wrong way. She was sick of the woman’s patronizing tone anyway. “I can figure it out on my own.”

“You could,” Nadia agreed. “Eventually. And while you try, everyone who knows what the Book is will be after you to get it for themselves. You’ll be busy running rather than enjoying these... earthly delights you seem to enjoy.”

Rowena considered Nadia’s words, eyes flicking over her side of the hotel room. Running from people looking for the book would likely mean hiding in terrible places, dank and cold and dark. It would mean spending time she could be studying the book in running and hiding. And from what she’d translated of the book already, the power spell was the least of the prizes within it. Maybe, just maybe, dealing with Nadia for a short time wouldn’t be so terrible. Even with her patronizing tone. Besides, once she got what she needed from the ghost, she could always destroy her. A sly grin tugged at her lips. Yes, that was a good plan.

“Very well then,” Rowena said, turning to Nadia and nodding. She held out her hand to the ghost, waiting. Nadia rose and took her hand, sealing the pact between them. “You help me and I help you. Then we’ll both get what we want.”

“Yes,” Nadia hissed, drawing out the word like a snake. “Revenge and life.”


	3. Crack of Dawn

Crowley’s eyes widened as Castiel stood straight. After Rowena’s spell had hit him, he’d hunched over and grunted in pain. What possible spell could Rowena have cast that would affect an _angel_? Before now, Crowley would have swore that an angel could throw off anything, even one as weakened as Castiel appeared to be. Looked like he was wrong. Rowena laughed as she left, a self-satisfied gloating chuckle that made Crowley grit his teeth for a moment. Only for a moment, though, as he had far more pressing concerns. 

Castiel’s angel blade slid out of his sleeve as blood dripped from reddened and senseless eyes. Whatever he was in the grip of had seemed to turn him into a mindless beast, intent on one thing: killing Crowley. Crowley tried to yank his legs up but they may as well have been glued to the floor. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t get away. And now, Castiel was stalking towards him.

“Castiel, no,” Crowley said, watching the angel warily. But the words had no effect. The angel blade lifted up as Castiel reached him. The silver glinted before it flashed down towards his face. Crowley lifted an arm over his head, an ineffectual barrier but it was instinct. “No. Please!”

There was no change in Castiel’s expression, no halting the swift thrust of the silver blade. Crowley saw his death in Castiel’s eyes and cringed away. But as he did so, he overbalanced and fell backwards, feet still stuck to the floor. The angel blade swished past his face by bare inches and the breath was knocked out of him as he fell to the floor. Blood spurted into his mouth as he landed, teeth biting hard into his tongue. Castiel stumbled, the solid object he was expecting to hit no longer there. The angel stumbled forward a few steps before completely losing his balance and falling to the floor. The momentary distraction, and the blood filling his mouth, was enough for Crowley to save himself.

Shoving his fingers into his mouth and covering them with blood, Crowley quickly drew a set of sigils on the floor. He snapped out a quick order, just two words. “Get here”. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, four demons appeared in the warehouse. They looked around, a touch confused, until they saw Crowley on the floor with blood dripping from his mouth and coating his fingers. Castiel was just standing up, the angel blade scraping ominously across the floor as he rose. He turned and growled at the newcomers before his attention was captured by Crowley at his feet.

“Well?” Crowley demanded imperiously, a thread of fear in the word. “What are you waiting for? Restrain the angel!”

The four demons rushed towards Castiel. The first one to reach him died screaming, angel blade buried in his chest. That left the other three safe from the blade for a few crucial moments. Two grabbed Castiel’s arms while the third bear-hugged him from behind. Castiel struggled, screaming and growling, but was no match for the three demons. Even with his grace returned and Rowena’s spell still coursing through his veins. Finally, he slumped in the demons’ hold, growling fitfully and glaring at Crowley.

“What would you like us to do with him, Your Majesty?” one of the demons asked. “His blade is right there. We can kill him if you like.”

“No, no,” Crowley said after a few moments’ thought. “Take him to an empty dungeon and lock him in there. Make sure it’s one of the strongest and that it’s locked tight. Then I want you to bring me these ingredients.”

Crowley rattled off a list of ingredients, repeating them to make sure his underlings understood. They weren’t always the brightest bulbs in the box. Then again, they were demons. What did you expect. The four winked out of sight, the warehouse sounding loudly silent once they were gone. Crowley tugged at his legs again, without any real hope that he would be free. He wasn’t. Waiting impatiently, Crowley tried to decide what exactly he was going to do with Castiel. Killing the angel right away was definitely a pleasing idea. Seeing the flash of light in his eyes as he screamed was a sight Crowley would enjoy having burned into his memory. Then again, with everything Castiel had done, a quick death was far too much of a mercy. There were other ways, messy ways, to get the revenge Crowley sought.

When the demons finally returned with the ingredients Crowley needed, he’d thought of at least half a dozen ways to torment and torture Castiel. Each was more bloody than the last and he couldn’t decide which he was going to use. Maybe none of them. He wanted Castiel to be aware and himself when being tortured and it might take a while for Rowena’s spell to wear off. He mixed the ingredients quickly in the metal bowl his underlings set down near him and added a bit of his own blood. His tongue had finally stopped bleeding but there was plenty coating him. A match dropped into the bowl followed by a flash was all that was left. When the smoke faded away, Crowley moved his legs experimentally. He was free.

“Right,” he said, satisfied. Getting to his feet, Crowley took a moment to brush off and straighten his suit before facing his underlings. “I hope Castiel is exactly where I told you to put him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the same demon who’d spoken before answered. “He’s in the deepest cell. And, I must say, you have plenty of willing volunteers to do whatever you like to the angel. Some are nearly slavering with the desire to kill him.”

“Everyone is to leave the angel alone. He is mine,” Crowley snapped angrily. “Anyone who goes near Castiel, breathes through the bars of the door, or even _thinks_ about killing him will have me to deal with. They will die a very inventive, creative, and painful death but only after begging for it.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the demon said, fear crossing his face. The other two demons shuffled uncomfortably and tried to make it appear like they weren’t part of the group that wanted to kill the angel themselves. “Will there be anything else?”

“No,” Crowley said, waving a hand. The three demons disappeared quickly and Crowley had to smother a laugh. It was fun keeping underlings on their toes, never knowing what might kill them. He brushed his suit off again and looked around the space Rowena had been occupying. It was amazing that the moose had actually managed to capture her. One of these days, Crowley might even ask him about it. But there was nothing actually interesting, nothing to say where Rowena had gone. That was all right. He had all the time in the world.

As he stepped outside, Crowley stumbled and nearly fell to the ground again. This time, it wasn’t because he was dodging. It felt like the world shook violently underneath him. But there was no change to the land that he could see, no birds taking to the air in fear. Everything looked normal. Then it felt like a shadow covered the sun. And Crowley knew what it was. Knew because he’d heard of it from the archangels who’d first defeated it and locked it away. The Darkness.

“Time for me to exit, stage left,” Crowley said sardonically and winked out of existence just before a shadow from the building touched him. The Darkness would send plenty of souls his way. Desperate people looking for a way out, for safety, for whatever their desires were in the twilight of the world. It was a good day to be a demon. As long as he kept out of the Darkness’ clutches. 

Appearing in his throne room, Crowley waved away the demons waiting for an audience. He didn’t have the patience for them right now. Instead, he headed down to the dungeons, descending a spiral staircase into the bowels to find the cell at the very bottom. It was the deepest anyone had ever dared tunnel into the depths of Hell. Inside, growling and screaming could be heard. It made Crowley smile. He looked through the bars near the top of the door and his smile grew even wider. Castiel was crouched in the middle of the cell, hands bloody from beating on the walls. His efforts showed in the streaks of blood that still showed wetly on the stone walls. Of course, they came to naught.

“I hope you come to your senses soon,” Crowley whispered through the bars. Castiel’s head whipped up and senseless eyes stared at him. Then, the angel lunged at the door and slammed into it, shoulder first. The door held under the onslaught, barely even shivering with the blow. “I have such plans for you.”

Crowley kept his vigil at the door as the hours passed and the sun set. Periodically, one of his underlings would make the trek down the stairs to mention others waiting for an audience. Sometime in the middle of the night, one underling mentioned the Darkness. Of course, he didn’t know its name, just that it was a shadow blighting the Earth. And, as Crowley had predicted, crossroads deals were on the rise. He waved away all petitions and merely nodded when he heard about the deals. Most of his attention was claimed by the slavering animal that used to be an angel in the cell before him.

Finally, at the crack of dawn, something changed. Castiel stopped growling and sat down hard. He huffed quietly as if he hadn’t taken a solid breath in far too long. One hand scrubbed over his face, blood flaking off onto his fingers. Then, he looked around the cell he was in. Fear came into his eyes. When Castiel turned blue eyes that were back to normal to the door, Crowley let out a deep chuckle that he made sure the angel could hear.

“Where am I?” Castiel asked, voice hoarse.

“Welcome back to Hell, Castiel,” Crowley purred through the door. Satisfaction and anticipation threaded through his voice. It made Castiel shiver. “I’m glad you came back to yourself. We have much ahead of us, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have a personal headcanon about Crowley that I alluded to here. My headcanon is that Crowley was an angel that fell with Lucifer. He spent his time as a Knight or a demon or what-have-you in Hell. But he had a crack in the chassis like Castiel does. Crowley always wanted to be loved. After watching humans for centuries, seeing all the love they were capable of for each other alongside the evil, Crowley decided to become human. So he ripped out his grace and became human like Anna did. (it kinda makes sense to me that he chose Rowena during a winter solstice orgy because solstices are one of the times when the veils between planes and worlds thin. it was likely easier then). So he is born as Fergus MacCloud and grows up. Eventually, he makes a deal with a crossroads demon so that his soul would be sent to Hell. (it always seemed to be like something Crowley would expect people to believe about him, bargaining for two extra inches, not what he would actually do). So he lives out his time, goes to Hell, and recovers his grace. Then he hides himself as a low-level crossroads demon because he has plans that go against the current dynasty in Hell and waits.


	4. Skeletons in the Closet

After hearing Gabriel scream at them to run, neither Winchester hesitated. They bolted out of the car and ran in the opposite direction of the Darkness. That led to the road and they turned to run towards the highway. If nothing else, maybe they could flag down a car. Sam glanced back once as they ran, wondering if Gabriel could hold back the Darkness all by himself. The golden glow was just as strong as it was at first and the Darkness roiled against the invisible barrier. Seemed the archangel could do exactly what he said he could.

“How far you think we have to go?” Dean panted, head turning from side to side looking for a way out.

“Dunno,” Sam replied. They’d almost reached half a mile away and a stitch was forming in his side. He hadn’t had to do much long-distance running lately. “Keep running.”

They kept running, breaths getting choppier and chests heaving. The stitch in Sam’s side had formed fully and he ran with one hand on it to try and ease some of the pain. It didn’t work but he didn’t stop. Whatever was behind him was a lot more dangerous than the pain in his side. They lost track of how long they’d been running, minutes flowing seamlessly together. The countryside went past, minute changes here and there to show that they weren’t running in circles. It wasn’t until they’d been running for almost two and a half miles that Sam skidded to a stop. He leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees and tried to draw deep breaths into his lungs. His heart was hammering against his chest, fear and exertion coiling together in his gut.

“Sammy, we gotta go,” Dean said, tugging on Sam’s arm to try and get him running again. “The Darkness is still back there.”

“Well, you could keep running but it would be faster if you came with me,” Gabriel’s voice said from in front of them. The archangel was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in anger. “Once we get somewhere safe, you two have a lot of explaining to do.”

He walked up to both Winchesters and put a hand on each of their shoulders. Without the characteristic snapping, they disappeared in a flutter of wings. After several moments, they dropped down near the bunker. Dean swore and rubbed his stomach. He hated flying by Angel Air, it always felt wrong. Sam was breathing a little easier now and the stitch in his side was fading away. He stared at Gabriel as the archangel studied the entrance to the bunker. Then, without thinking, he threw his arms around Gabriel and hugged him tight.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gabriel said, staggering a little in surprise. “What’s with the hugging Sasquatch?”

“Just... thank you, I guess,” Sam replied, moving back self-consciously and running a hand through his hair. He studiously avoided looking at Dean. It was all-too-likely his brother would have a smirk on his face. “And it’s good to know you’re not dead. You have some explaining yourself.”

The three of them headed into the bunker, Gabriel whistling appreciatively when he saw the inside. It was quiet inside, though the lights on the map in the middle of the room were all lit up. It was like when the angels had fallen though instead of individual points, whole sections of the map were lit contiguously. Dean took one look at the map, snorted, and headed over to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a generous helping of scotch then waved the bottle at Sam and Gabriel. While Sam shook his head, Gabriel nodded eagerly and walked over to take the glass Dean had already poured for himself.

“I thought you could create whatever you wanted,” Dean grumbled as Gabriel downed the scotch in one gulp. “Why take mine?”

“Because I could,” Gabriel chuckled, holding out the glass for a refill. “Besides, sometimes what humans make is tastier than what I can create. Authenticity, you know.”

Dean shook his head while pouring the second drink then poured some for himself. He set the decanter back down on the cabinet with a decisive click, the motion loudly proclaiming that his duties as bartender were done. While the interchange was going on between his brother and the archangel, Sam sat himself down at the table and rested his head on his hand. This was all too much now. The Darkness took God and all the archangels to just lock away, at least according to Death. What use were they against something like that?

“What’s eating you, Sam?” Gabriel asked, standing behind Sam and nudging him with a hip. “You’re safe and I’m back. What more do you want?”

“Like I said before, an explanation,” Sam sighed, concealing how much he’d enjoyed the momentary touch. “What is the Darkness and how do we fight it?”

“The Darkness is exactly that, darkness,” Gabriel said, snapping an armchair into existence. It was a revoltingly bright red, a shade that Sam was fairly sure he’d never seen before in his life. Gabriel slung his legs over one arm and braced his drink on the other. “Evil in its most elemental form. How did you two let it out? I thought Dad made a key to keep it locked up.”

“That Mark of Cain?” Dean interrupted. He dropped his glass on the table and straddled one of the chairs, resting his arms on the back. He took a quick drink before brandishing his now-clean arm. “Yeah, been there, had that. Crowley’s bright idea for taking down Abaddon. I got the Mark from Cain, killed Abaddon, killed him, and killed a whole lot more people along the way.”

“It’ll do that to you,” Gabriel agreed solemnly, eyeing Dean carefully. “You don’t have it anymore, though, obviously. How did that happen?”

“Sam captured a witch and Cas helped gather the ingredients to cast a spell from the Book of the Damned,” Dean explained shortly, anger threading through his words. 

Gabriel whistled and stared at Sam with new appreciation. When he’d first encountered the younger Winchester, he didn’t think Sam would have been the type to do something like that. Anything within his power and morals, yes. But to use something like the Book, he must have been truly desperate. Sam shrugged, uncomfortable beneath Gabriel’s study. It made him feel hot and prickly with shame. And something else that he didn’t look too deeply at. There were enough skeletons in his closet that one more secret shoved in with them wouldn’t be noticed.

“So, we explained and now it’s your turn,” Sam said, breaking the silence that had stretched on just a little too long. “How are you alive and how do we fight the Darkness?”


	5. Storm

“A storm is coming,” Nadia said softly as she stood staring over Rowena’s shoulder at the Book. “You’d best be prepared for it.”

“What do you mean?” Rowena asked, not bothering to look up from the spell she was translating. The curtains in the hotel room were open and she flicked a glance outside. The sky was clear, turning into glorious golds and reds and purples as the sun set. No storm in evidence at all. “Have you even looked outside?”

“That’s not what I mean and you should know it,” Nadia scoffed, rolling her eyes at Rowena’s back. She flickered out of existence then appeared at the window, one insubstantial hand resting on the glass. “How you don’t feel it is a mystery to me. Are you sure you’re as powerful as you believe?”

Rowena sighed and finally looked up from the book, glaring at Nadia. Her lips thinned in anger though she held back the angry retort on the tip of her tongue. There was something smug in Nadia’s stance as Rowena kept quiet, something victorious. Then again, the ghost had been treating her much like an apprentice ever since Rowena agreed to the deal with her. While she’d never been an apprentice herself, really she’d been far too talented and gifted for all that, she’d seen how some of the other witches had treated their apprentices. They were often given the scutwork, the back-breaking labor, the things the witch in question hated doing herself. And they were often treated little better than a misbehaving dog. No, apprenticeship had not been for Rowena, then or now. It grated that that was exactly the kind of relationship she had to deal with in order to get the power she craved.

“Either speak plainly or shut up,” Rowena finally said, snapping the words out briskly. “I’m trying to decipher your manic scribbling. Which, by the way, would go so much faster were you helping rather than spouting nonsense.”

“Oh, my dear, you can’t feel it, can you?” Nadia laughed, the sound echoing nastily off the glass in front of her. She turned to smirk at Rowena, dead eyes lighting with glee. “Well, maybe it’s not totally your fault. You’re only human, after all. But the storm I speak of is an evil, a darkness that has been released into the world. I’ve never felt it’s like before.”

“Evil is as evil does,” Rowena shook her head, annoyed at such a petty interruption. “Now, can we get back to translating this please? We have a lot of work to do before you get your revenge.”

Nadia flickered out of existence again, a sigh lingering as she disappeared. She appeared again next to Rowena, flicking an impatient glance over the other woman’s notes. She read through the translated spells quickly, the translation coming to her mind easily. So much effort and time and her own blood had gone into writing her codex that it was burned into her memory even centuries after she’d died. After reaching the last word, Nadia nodded at Rowena. There were no mistakes. The woman was gifted when it came to something she wanted; if it wasn’t, it was like it didn’t exist to her.

“You’re doing well so far,” Nadia said as the sun finally set. She looked out the window again, feeling a chill. It was strange and foreign to her, this feeling. It had been so long she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually, physically felt something. It scared her as nothing had in an even longer time. “But now, I think, we’ve run out of time. You should put up a protection of some sort. The storm is here and it won’t respect the fact that you aren’t on the side of good.”

Rowena narrowed her eyes as she studied Nadia, the words surprising. The pale ghost was even paler than usual, her eyes wide and flicking around the room quickly. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, the knuckles white from the strain. And that convinced Rowena, as nothing else could, that whatever was coming wasn’t something she could just ignore. Chanting quickly, Rowena set a protection around her room. Nothing could get through it, nothing that she knew of. But as the darkness settled in around the hotel, the sun’s light long gone, she felt a twisting in her belly. There was something out there, something hungry and hunting. Not mindless but so alien as to be incomprehensible. And Nadia was right, it didn’t care about anything but itself and feeding its hunger. Feeling it sweep over the building, Rowena trembled inside.

“It’s here,” Nadia whispered, moving to the bed and sitting down slowly. She moved like a rabbit might who wasn’t quite sure if it had been seen yet. “If we’re lucky, we won’t become its next meal.”

“What is it?” Rowena asked, her voice just as low as Nadia’s. She closed the codex and the Book, suddenly not wanting to work on anything that might draw attention to her. “In all my years, I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“I don’t know and that terrifies me, I’m not too proud to admit it,” Nadia shrugged, flickering out of existence for just a moment. “This feels old, older than anything I have run across.”

Both women sat silently, their eyes trained on the window that looked out into darkness. Streetlights here and there glowed fitfully, the golden pools of light barely stretching out from the base of the poles. Normally, nighttime was full of sound and light and life but not tonight. Tonight, living things hid and cowered in fear they didn’t completely understand. It was atavistic, instinctual, and there was no denying it. Tonight, nightmares abounded and it wasn’t safe to be in the dark. The tense silence continued for several long minutes as pressure and malevolence passed overhead. Nadia spent the time sitting completely still, the image of a pale statue with her hands folded in her lap. Rowena couldn’t keep still, her fingers twisting around themselves as she waited. In her translations of the Book so far, nothing was mentioned of anything like this. Though, there was one brief allusion to an encompassing shadow. The word was difficult to translate and, after glancing at that section once, Rowena had left it alone to work on other parts of the book. Maybe, once she didn’t feel like a frightened rabbit, it would be time to go back to that section.

Finally, in the small hours of the morning, the light from the lamps gained in strength. The golden light flowed out in reassuring circles and the noise of a myriad of living beings all in close proximity started up again slowly. The pressure overhead faded away, along with the feeling of being hunted, and Rowena breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling like prey not something she enjoyed and she hoped never to feel it again.

“Looks like we’re safe again for now,” Rowena commented, flipping open the Book and the codex again. The seeds of a plan were sprouting in her mind and she was sure the Book could help her with it. All that was needed was to find the right spell. “I want to know what that was and I think I know someone who will know.”

“Who?” Nadia asked, appearing next to Rowena and staring down at the Book curiously. Rowena had flipped to a section on summoning spells, one section Nadia herself hadn’t used all that much. “Who could possibly know what that was?”

“My son,” Rowena growled, lips thinning again in anger. “If he survived, of course. Why don’t we find out?”


	6. Tongue in Cheek

Some time later, Castiel heard footsteps coming down towards the dungeon he was still trapped in. While he could have kept track of the time easily, time being something he could feel intimately thanks to his grace, he’d chosen not to. It would only have felt even longer had he known how long it had been since Crowley had given his ominous promise. Better not to know and imagine that this close dim cell was all that was going to be in his future while here in Hell. The other, far more likely option, was nowhere near as pleasant to contemplate. Besides, he knew the waiting was a tactic commonly used by torturers to break down their victims before the torture even began. As he listened to the footsteps, Castiel tried to ignore the small flare of relief at knowing someone else was going to be here that told him the waiting game was working on him too. Cheerful whistling joined the footsteps until both stopped right outside the locked door.

“And how are we doing, Castiel?” Crowley’s voice came through the barred opening near the top of the door. His eyes glittered with a feral glee as he looked in. “Ready for some quality time together?”

Castiel kept silent, not wanting to feed into Crowley’s tongue-in-cheek banter. He was tired of all the times the demon had tried to get under his skin. Every veiled reference to a relationship between the two of them or double entendre did indeed grate across his mind but he’d long since learned to ignore that feeling. Besides, if he didn’t play along, Crowley was more likely to let information slip. More than he meant to, especially about the topics Castiel wanted most to hear about. Dean and the Mark, where Rowena had gone, what exactly had happened after her spell hit him. It would just take patience and playing Crowley like a fiddle while the demon tried to do the exact same thing back.

“Tut tut, no greeting for me?” Crowley continued, shaking his head. He unlocked the heavy door and let it swing opening, wheeling in a covered cart. He positioned the cart to the left of the door, closed the door behind him, and pulled a pair of handcuffs out from beneath the sheet covering the cart. They were connected to a long chain. “Well, that’s all right. Be a good boy, Castiel, and give me your hands. That’s the easiest thing to do. You really don’t want to find out what the hard way is.”

Tilting his head to the side a bit, Castiel studied Crowley. The chain would most probably connect to the ring inset in the ceiling above his head. It brought back unpleasant memories of Heaven’s re-education. But knowing Crowley and what he could do, the hard way was likely to be far more painful than just letting himself be cuffed. Maybe, if he played along for now, the actual torturing would take a little longer. Crowley liked to take his time, if his autopsy of Eve was anything to go by. So, still without a word being spoken, Castiel held out his hands. The handcuffs were snapped shut over his wrists and Castiel could see runes carved into the cold metal. They effectively rendered him powerless. The chain was hooked into the ring, just short enough that his arms were held above his head but not straining.

“You know, Meg once told me that the best torturers never get their hands dirty,” Crowley commented, holding out a hand and studying it almost mockingly. He turned a wolfish smile on Castiel. “I don’t agree. I think that while not getting your hands dirty can be fun, digging down into the muck and blood and gore is so much better. Oh, I have such plans for you angel. So much to make up for. Let’s see. Where shall we start? Ah, yes. The betrayal when you chose the Winchesters over our deal.”

Crowley turned to the covered cart and whipped the sheet off with a whimsical twist of his wrist. The sheet fluttered to the floor, forgotten once its usefulness was past. Shining metal implements rested on the flat top of the cart, any blood from previous uses cleaned off. The dullness in the handles and small nicks in blades showed that these tools were used and used often. Castiel looked over the tools once, cataloguing each one and its possible uses before looking away. This was part of the torture too. Let the captive see what might be used on him and let his imagination run away with him. Fear would make him more willing to talk. If talking was the goal here. It wasn’t, not for the history between them. Crowley wanted revenge and pain. He wanted screams echoing off the cold stone walls as blood spurted onto his hands. And damned if Castiel would give him that this quickly.

“So many tools, so little time,” Crowley cooed quietly as he ran a loving hand over the instruments on the cart. The hand lingered over one of the blades, a long thin knife with serrated edges and a heavy handle. There were grooves worn into the wood of the handle, grooves that fit Crowley’s fingers exactly. “What should I use first? Knives for cutting or something blunt for bruises and breaking? Decisions, decisions.”

While Crowley lingered over the tools on the cart, touching one here and there, Castiel shifted his hands in the cuffs. They were tight around his wrists but not so tight they cut off circulation. Not that it was all that important for him but it meant that they weren’t cutting into his wrists. But he still couldn’t slip his hands through them. There was a chance he could unhook the chain from the ring. As long as he could climb the chain and hold himself there while unhooking it. Problematic but doable. And this was a situation in which Castiel would do anything to survive. Finally, Crowley let out a little excited noise and picked up a small ball peen hammer. His fingers stroked over the end before sliding down the shaft of the hammer and gripping tightly. He turned to Castiel with the same wolfish grin from before. Castiel braced himself for the pain, determined not to give Crowley the satisfaction of screaming. But just as Crowley positioned the hammer over one knee and swung his arm back, running footsteps came down the stairs. An out-of-breath demon skidded to a stop just outside the door.

“Your Majesty,” the demon huffed, looking through the barred opening with panicked eyes. “There’s... there’s _something_ here to see you.”

“Well, tell whatever it is that I’m busy,” Crowley snapped, turning to the opening and glaring at the demon. “It can wait with everyone else.”

“Uh, sir, I don’t think this is one person who wants to wait,” the demon said nervously, still breathing hard. He must have run all the way from the throne room without pause. “It says.... well, _she_ says she’s the Darkness. She wants to talk.”

“The Darkness?” Crowley repeated, a thread of fear in his words that he ruthlessly quashed. He’d faced Dick Roman, bearded the Leviathan in his own den. A personification of Darkness shouldn’t scare him this much. With a sad little sigh, Crowley set the hammer down and shrugged at Castiel. “Well, we shouldn’t keep her waiting then. Until I come back, enjoy the sight of your future, Castiel. This intermission won’t last long.”

Crowley hurried out of the cell, closing the door and locking it behind him. While he was certain Castiel couldn’t get out of those cuffs, he hadn’t made it to King of Hell by being sloppy. Besides, the despair on the angel’s face as the lock clanged home was just priceless. A wave sent the demon on ahead of him, again at a dead run. That would give Crowley some time to compose himself and decide on exactly how he wanted this audience to go. Vague memories of archangels speaking of the Darkness in hushed and frightened tones floated up from the depths of his mind. They made him go shivery and cold. Shoving them aside, Crowley took several deep breaths as he headed up the stairs and to his throne room. He sat down on his throne, one leg crossed negligently over the other and his head propped on one hand. Fear was the last thing he wanted to show this thing, whatever it was.

“Show the Darkness in,” Crowley commanded, voice ringing throughout the chamber. There was no going back now. “Let’s see what she has to say.”


	7. Copper Penny

“Why don’t I start with how I’m alive?” Gabriel asked rhetorically. He tilted his head to the side for a moment, in apparent thought, then snapped. A bar of the distinctive pyramid-shaped Toblerone chocolate appeared in his hand, the biggest bar either Winchester had ever seen. Gabriel took a bite of it, tongue licking out over his bottom lip, and chewed with every evidence of enjoyment. Sam found himself flushing and looking away. “It’s simple really: Lucifer missed.”

“Missed?” Dean repeated suspiciously. He toyed with his glass, turning it in circles on the table in front of him. “How did he miss?”

“Dear old Lucy was so sure he was hitting the right spot that he was a little careless,” Gabriel shrugged though the ghost of an old pain darkened his eyes for a moment. It made Sam want to hug him again, though Dean ignored it. He’d had that pain in his own eyes far too often to want to take on another’s. “And being the brilliant archangel that I am, I played along. Bright flash of light, screaming, apparent dead body on the ground with ashed wings splayed out from my shoulders. He bought it.”

“So why didn’t you come find us or something?” Sam asked curiously. He kept his voice neutral with an effort, not wanting to let on the wrench in his gut at the whole event. “Why didn’t you tell me you were still alive when I went back? I saw your body on the ground and it was cold. Why not join us then and fight? We could have used you.”

Gabriel looked away from them both then, another shadow in his eyes. More pain and sorrow as he remembered the agonizing first few days after his fight with Lucifer. Archangels were invincible to most things and nearly impossible to hurt. But angel blades were the one thing they had no defense against. They could hurt and they could kill just as easily as a gun might kill a human. And while he’d survived, the encounter had left him with more scars. Both internal and external. Speaking of scars... Gabriel turned back and pulled the collar of his shirt aside to show the scar just to the left of his heart.

“I was badly injured,” he explained quietly, still not meeting either Winchester’s eyes. He waited a couple beats then let go of his collar. It took a deep swig of his scotch before Gabriel could continue. “Honestly, I still don’t completely remember leaving the motel. I holed up for a few days afterwards until I could think through the pain. Then I found a healer and worked on healing the wound. By then, you both had gone underground. Besides, I didn’t want to fight my family. I ran in order to get away from the Apocalypse in the first place.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sam replied, sympathy crossing his face. “Running because you can’t handle where the people you love are going and you have no way to stop it. Running for yourself because you need to get out.”

“Exactly kiddo,” Gabriel nodded, flashing Sam a look of gratitude. And had to wonder when Sam blushed and swallowed. “But you guys released the Darkness and it’s something that I can’t stand back and just let go.”

“Speaking of,” Dean cut in, annoyance in his voice. “How do we fight the damn thing? Knowing you’re alive and all is great but knowing how we survive this would be much better.”

“Look, when we fought it, it was all the archangels and Dad,” Gabriel said, taking another bite of the massive Toblerone bar. “At the end, while we distracted and wounded it, Dad did... _something_ to create a cage for it. I don’t know how as I was a little busy. Then he screamed a spell at it and a bright flash enclosed the Darkness. Once we could see again, Lucifer and Dad were standing together looking at something on Lucifer’s arm. I only saw it clearly the once as he kept it covered after that. The Darkness was gone but things were never quite the same. And anytime we asked what exactly had happened, Dad just gave us a bullshit answer about a key and a cage.”

“So you really have nothing helpful at all to offer,” Dean said flatly, knocking back the rest of his scotch. He got up and sauntered over to the cabinet, pouring himself another generous shot. “Great. Just fucking great.”

Sam breathed out a quiet sigh, the curious happiness he’d felt at finding Gabriel alive fading away. Guilt and worry took its place, worming in his gut and twisting. He’d broken the world trying to save his brother and there was no going back from it. Not this time. But, if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t think he would have done anything different. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what they were going to do now. Sit in the bunker and hope the Darkness didn’t find them? Go out there and save as many people as they could in a losing war? Fear joined the guilt and worry, a copper penny tang filling his mouth until he couldn’t taste anything else.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Gabriel said smugly, smirking at Dean. He snapped again, the Toblerone disappearing and a lollipop taking its place. He popped it into his mouth and sucked loudly, waiting until Dean was obviously frustrated to speak again. Just as Dean opened his mouth to snap, Gabriel beat him to it. “There’s a book out there written by a witch. She managed to get a line on a lot of information she wasn’t supposed to. Things not even we archangels know. The spell Dad wrote is all in there. We just need to get that book.”

“What book is it?” Sam asked, the first flickers of hope burning in his chest. Maybe there was a way they could fix this after all. “Where do we find it?”

“Well, the book is called the Book of the Damned,” Gabriel replied, winking at Sam and grinning wider when Sam looked flustered again. Well, wasn’t that interesting? Gabriel made a mental note to look into that further later on, when he decided how exactly he wanted to proceed with his suspicions. “And from what you’ve told me, a witch took off with it.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered, knocking back his shot again and scrubbing a hand over his face. He set the glass down on the cabinet and sighed. “All right, Sammy, let’s go find us a witch. That bitch Rowena couldn’t have gotten all that far.”


	8. Aztec Gold

Quiet mumbling filled the motel room followed by the rustling of paper. Rowena sat at the desk, translating the spell she needed industrially. The specific spell was in the middle of the section on summonings and Rowena was quite annoyed at this point. She’d translated about half of the spells already because they’d had mentions to Hell or to the damned King. But none was quite was she was looking for as those had merely called on the King or asked him for protection from what was being summoned. The other reason she was annoyed was Nadia.

“Are you done yet?” the ghost asked yet again. As Rowena glanced up at her, a smirk tugged at the edges of Nadia’s lips. She hadn’t offered any help at all, preferring instead to sit on the edge of the bed and stare at her. Nadia hadn’t agreed with Rowena’s plan in the first place and still didn’t. Even the temperature in the room had dropped several noticeable degrees, more evidence of the ghost’s displeasure. 

“Not quite,” Rowena sighed, turning away from Nadia and surreptitiously rubbing her eyes. Time was ticking past and long shadows were drawn throughout the room. The sun was going down again and Rowena had no desire to face the pressure and malevolence of the night before. She only had a few hours before night fell and the shadow hunted again. “If you helped, it might go faster you know.”

“I do know and no,” Nadia shook her head, flickering out of sight for a moment before appearing. “Knowing what that was isn’t going to help, in my opinion. We just need to stay out of sight until it blows over. I’ve seen evil come and go, though nothing on that scale. It will go too.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rowena muttered, not caring if Nadia heard her. A suspicion was growing in the back of her mind. That evil had appeared after she’d cast the spell to remove the Mark of Cain. Maybe, just maybe, it was connected to the Mark. And, of course, to the Winchesters. Everything she’d learned of them told her that whatever they got themselves involved in tended to go bad for quite a few people. And didn’t just blow over.

With a sigh, she started translating again, ignoring the headache behind her eyes and at her temples. Reading the Book wasn’t easy. Neither was reading Nadia’s codex. The woman had seemed to delight in puzzles and cryptic hints though they were easy to decipher with the help of the woman herself. As she worked through the first lines of the next spell, her heart started to beat a little faster. This might be it, might be the spell she was looking for. Rowena worked a little faster, shoulders hunched over the desk and her head bent down to study the words closer. Nadia watched her, eyes narrowed and hands clasped in her lap.

“You know what brought about my death?” the ghost said suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically loud. She smirked again when Rowena flinched just slightly. Waiting until Rowena turned to look at her, Nadia shrugged and spread out her hands gracefully in front of her. “Pride. Pride and the belief that I was too powerful to be harmed. It was my curse, just like Aztec gold was the curse for Cortes.”

“Fascinating,” Rowena said dryly, rolling her eyes. “And this matters to me, why?”

“Because it’s your curse too,” Nadia said reproachfully, glaring at Nadia before shifting her eyes to the window. A spark of fear bloomed in them, fear and respect for something unfathomable. “Though I would add on vanity in your case. I thought the Men of Letters could never find me much less kill me. I worked on my codex and dreamed of the power I’d attain from the Book of the Damned. But that book is cursed just like I was. It brought about my death and, if you aren’t careful, will bring about yours.”

“How _did_ they find you?” Rowena asked, dropping her pen and rubbing a hand over her eyes. She turned to Rowena then, pleased that it was her turn to smirk. “You being a powerful witch and all.”

“That is a secret you may one day learn,” Nadia replied dismissively, still looking out the window. “If I decide to tell you. Now, if you’re set on this course to summon your son, whoever he might be, you might want to hurry. Night is not far off.”

Rowena bit her tongue, holding back all the sarcastic comments that threatened to spill out from between her lips. She’d antagonized Nadia far enough for now; losing her teacher out of pique was the last thing she wanted. Anyways, she was almost finished with the spell. It was indeed the one she needed and the list of ingredients of short. It wouldn’t take long at all to gather them. As long as she had the time. The sun dipped further and further to the horizon as Rowena finished and double-checked the translation. Wordlessly, she held it out to Nadia and breathed out a sigh of relief when the ghost nodded. It was all correct and exactly what she needed.

But now, the last bright curve of the sun was sinking below the horizon. Just after sundown was when the evil passed by last time. Chanting quickly, Rowena set the same protections she’d set the night before and waited. She and Nadia both watched out the window, wondering if the evil was going to come again tonight. After about an hour, during which both women sat like statues, nothing happened. No pressure, no malevolence, no unfathomable hunting _thing_. Rowena breathed out another sigh of relief and smiled a smile that was all teeth and no mirth. It boded ill for whatever might cross her path.

“I’ll be out then to get these ingredients,” Rowena told Nadia, tucking the Book and the codex underneath the bed again. “Watch over these. Wouldn’t do for your tie to the mortal world to get stolen, would it? No revenge and second life for you then.”

“I’ll watch them,” Nadia promised, her glittering eyes promising wrath. They both knew she wouldn’t deliver, though. Not yet, when she was still a ghost. Not when life and warmth beckoned. Though she would get the last word in. “Hurry.”

Rowena snorted and left, closing the door behind her and hanging the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob. She hurried out of the motel and went in search of the ingredients. The first couple were easy, just a quick stop in a graveyard for graveyard dirt and a branch forcibly broken from a tree growing over a grave. The next two ingredients proved a little more troublesome. The first was sulfur freshly dug from the earth. That was taken care of with a quick search through a mine outside of town. Charming and spelling a local she found nearby, Rowena didn’t even get her hands dirty. The last ingredient was the blood of someone who’d been touched by a demon. That took some searching but, in a town this size, there was always at least one person who’d had their brush with the supernatural. She finally found an old woman, her blind eyes always seeming to follow her movements, who’d been telling a story for years that she’d been possessed by the devil. A slice on her arm got Rowena all the blood she needed. All that was left was the spell itself.

Heading back to the motel, Rowena rehearsed the spell in her head. It wasn’t difficult, just like the ingredients weren’t too difficult to obtain, but it was in a language she wasn’t very familiar with. And she wondered if her son was still alive. Whatever power the angel might have had, no one could stand up to her attack dog spell. There’d been a moment, right before she cast it, that Rowena had worried it might not work. But the power leaving her and flowing into the angel and his reddened eyes when he stood up told her everything she’d needed to know. She hadn’t lost her touch.

Nadia was still in the same spot she’d been in when Rowena had left, hands clasped in her lap as she sat on the bed. Her eyes stared out the window except for the one glance she gave Rowena when the living witch entered the room. Rowena ignored her right back, using the ice bucket that sat empty on the dresser as a bowl for the ingredients. She pulled the translated spell out from under the bed, took a deep breath, and read through the words one last time. Then, she cast the spell and set the ingredients alight with a gesture. As the flames subsided and smoke billowed up from the bucket, Rowena looked around the room for Crowley. Did he live or was this a waste of time?


	9. Sea Glass

At the doors to the throne room, two demons swallowed hard, looked at each other with fear in their eyes, and pushed the doors open. They carefully kept their eyes averted from what waited just outside and kept moving with the doors. Once the doors were fully opened, they slipped away down the hall. There was no way either would stay in the room with a King annoyed with an interruption or... _whatever_ waited to see him.

Crowley studied the woman standing in the doorway as the doors opened. She looked innocuous enough from a distance. Her skin was light but not pale. Long brown hair fell straight down her back and was tucked behind her ears. It left her face unframed, cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut glass dominating her long, narrow face. Her lips were just a bit under full and were painted rusty red of dried blood. Her nose was long and narrow, much like the shape of her face. The bridge led straight between her eyes and connected to her forehead in one long swoop. It was her eyes that led one to think something wasn’t as innocuous as it seemed. They glittered in the lights in the throne room. As she moved closer, Crowley could see her eyes more clearly and they shone like sea glass. Soft and frosted with a slightly oily, milky quality to them. And the colors shifted. One blink they were a deep green, the next a pale ocean blue, the next a deep brown, and the next the gray of stormy seas.

“Would you be the King of Hell?” she asked as she stopped in front of the throne. Her arms were held easily at her sides, hands unclenched and calm. She made no move to bow or anything of the sort. She merely looked at Crowley with a slightly curious expression. Her voice was flat, without any accent at all, and the words almost sounded forced. It was like she had very little practice with speaking and was imitating what she’d heard.

“That would be me,” Crowley replied, a warm smile tugging at his lips that he hoped hid his unease. “You would be the Darkness, yes?”

“Darkness,” the woman said, pursing her lips as if rolling the word over them and around her tongue. She smiled then, all teeth and no mirth. “Yes, that will do well enough. I am the Darkness.”

“I understand you wished to speak with me?” Crowley asked when her lips continued to move around the word. “What was it you wanted to discuss?”

“An alliance,” the woman said. “I remember the angels and what they did to me. I would not side with them. But you, however, are evil. You want souls, you work to collect them. Our goals are similar, I think.”

“You want to work with me for souls?” Crowley asked, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes. “Wouldn’t that make us competing interests? Going after the same resource has always started wars.”

“I do not want war,” the woman replied, shaking her head. A thread of anger wound through her words and flashed in her sea glass eyes. “War locked me away for eons. It taught me that I must have an ally if I am to stay free.”

Crowley was silent then for several minutes, turning the idea over and over in his mind. He watched the woman the whole time, studying her as carefully as he was his proposal. She looked so human on the surface, could pass for any one of the schlubs who’d sold their souls topside. Until you watched her. She barely breathed, no motion in her stomach or chest to show inhales and exhales. She blinked slowly, at regular intervals, as if imitating something she’d seen. While silence reigned in the room, the only movement she made was that slow blinking. It was eerie and made Crowley’s skin crawl. There was also the aura of... menace around her that belied the human exterior. A shadow seemed to emanate from her, something that darkened the light coming in the windows and made the candle flames dance fitfully close to their wicks.

“You get strength and a better position in the world if we ally,” Crowley finally said carefully, feeling his way through the words. “What do I get in return for allying with you? If I do, I’ll be target number two for anything coming after you.”

“You get to live,” the woman replied. The flatness in her voice made the other option sound just a breath away. “I am not without strength of my own. When I was caged, it took a god at the prime of his power and all of his children to defeat me. Decide against this alliance and no one in this place lives another day. I will not suffer any other rivals.”

“I suppose that makes it easy,” Crowley chuckled uneasily, holding out his hands and shrugging. “You have your alliance.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, inclining her head just the slightest fraction in Crowley’s direction. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the throne room. Crowley watched her go, holding his breath until she was gone. 

“Well, that went well,” Crowley muttered sardonically to himself, letting out a relieved sigh. No matter how many times he faced something that could feasibly kill him, it never got any easier. And speaking of something that could have killed him, he still had a guest waiting in the dungeon. He snapped and waited impatiently until a demon appeared, tentatively looking into the throne room. “No more interruptions. If anyone comes to see me, they wait. And close those doors.”

The demon jumped to work, nodding and pushing the heavy doors closed again. Crowley smirked, good mood restored a little at the fear he could still invoke in his underlings. Then, he headed back down to the lowest cell, intent on getting back on track with the torturing and revenge. He whistled cheerfully again, imagining how he was going to take Castiel apart. It was long overdue.


	10. Acceptance

As soon as Crowley left the dungeon and the lock on the door clanged shut, Castiel sucked in a deep breath and held it. He listened with every ounce of his being while Crowley walked back up the stairs out of the depths. There was no way his lot was going to be meek compliance and acceptance of his own torture. Relief filled him as the footsteps faded away and didn’t return. To be honest, he was expecting at least a little bit of torture before his chance to escape came. The thought that he might make it out of here mostly unscathed nearly made him laugh hysterically.

Instead of laughing, though, Castiel studied the chain and the ring it was hooked to. The runes on the cuffs kept him from using his power so he couldn’t just break the chain. But Crowley didn’t take into account his sheer stubbornness and will to live. Especially now that Dean didn’t have the Mark. There was too much between them to discuss, too many things they’d left because there was no _time_ and the fate of the world rested on both their shoulders.

“This is not going to be pleasant,” Castiel muttered to himself. He took another deep breath and started hauling himself up the chain. It hurt, wrenching himself up by main force. The cuffs dug into his wrists and a wet warmth started to flow down his forearms. But Castiel didn’t let himself stop, just clenched his teeth and held back the groans and screams. Once he reached the ring anchored in the ceiling, he wrapped his legs around the chain to anchor himself and take some of the strain off his arms. He panted hard as he took a few moments to rest, forehead leaning on the chain. “Almost done.”

After counting fifteen panting breaths, Castiel started working on loosening the ring from the ceiling. He spun it as quickly as he could, working the bolts loose. It took longer than he’d hoped and he stopped every once in a while to listen closely to the hallway outside his cell. There were still no footsteps, no cheerful whistling, and he began to hope that he might just make it out of this without anyone the wiser. The ring came loose with a crumble of plaster and rock. There was a timeless moment when Castiel realized his mistake and then he was plummeting to the floor of the cell. He landed on his feet and rolled, letting the force of the fall expel itself without hurting him.

“Now to get these cuffs off,” Castiel muttered, stepping up beside the covered cart and looking over the tools. “Good thing Crowley left this here, thinking I was helpless. The more fool he.”

He picked up a pair of pliers and went to work on the chain binding the cuffs together. After what felt like far too long a time once again, the links gave way. He slipped the long chain off and rubbed at his wrists. The blood was still sticky though the wounds had finally stopped bleeding. Getting the cuffs off could wait until he was out of here. Dean and Sam kept a collection of handcuff keys with them just in case and he could get them off at the bunker. He dropped the pliers back on the cart and studied the door. It would be tricky to get out of here but there was a tool perfect for sliding the lock.

He picked up the tool, a long, thin piece of metal with a wire loop on the end that could be loosened or tightened. A few possible uses of the tool ran through his mind and Castiel shuddered. Feeling a sense of urgency now, someone could come back any time even though there were no sounds at all nearby, he went to the door and unlocked the lock using the tool. It was a good thing that it was one of the sliding bars otherwise he didn’t think he’d be able to get out. Dropping the tool back on the cart, he started to turn until a glint of light from the bottom caught his eye. Stooping, Castiel gasped as he saw his blade sitting against one of the raised walls of the bottom shelf. He’d missed it when Crowley had first wheeled the cart in because the raised walls hid it neatly. It was likely, considering that none of the other tools on the cart were capable of killing an angel, that Crowley was going to use his own blade on him.

“Now I have a much better chance,” Castiel murmured to himself, feeling the first tentative stirrings of a smile. He hefted his blade and checked the length, pleased when it was as immaculate as the last time he’d seen it. “Time to go.”

Easing the door open, Castiel checked the hallway. It was still silent and deserted with only one way to go: up the stairs that Crowley had taken earlier. There weren’t even any other cells in the hallway, just the one he’d broken out of. Holding his blade ready, Castiel moved stealthily up the stairs. There were no demons in sight at the top and he hurried through the rest of the place. Now that he was actually able to look around, Castiel wasn’t so sure that Crowley’s assertion he was in Hell was actually true. It didn’t feel like Hell, like any of the other times he’d been there. And with how much Crowley liked Earth, it was likely this place was actually on Earth.

He came to a door with a red EXIT sign above it, still without seeing any demons. Instead of reassuring him, it only made him worry more. Why weren’t there more around? Where were they? Where was Crowley? He edged the door open just enough to peek through it and saw a parking lot with trees on the far side. Still no demons and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief at finally being free. He darted outside, letting the door close behind him, and ran across the parking lot. He made it into the trees and risked a look back. The building he’d been held in was a warehouse, windows boarded up and the walls decrepit. He’d been kept in the basement of the place, having come up stairs to leave from the ground floor. But he was free.

Castiel kept running until he came to a road on the other side of the trees. There, he slowed to a walk and turned towards the sun. Eventually, he hoped someone would come down the road that he could get a ride from. If not, he’d just keep walking until he found a car he could steal. Dean had taught him how to hotwire a car during one of their rare quiet moments. It was a memory he still enjoyed, Dean speaking easily and happily, teaching him the steps to break into a car and hotwire it. That moment was one of the times Dean was himself, fully, with no weight, sorrow, or guilt burdening him. Maybe, with the Mark gone, he could go back to being that Dean.

About ten minutes of walking later, Castiel was in luck as a car rumbled down the road towards him. He held out a thumb, making sure to hide his blade against the side of his leg. The person stopped, rolling down the window and eyeing him carefully. Castiel stared back at the man behind the wheel, hoping he looked harmless.

“Need a ride?” the man finally asked. “Where to?”

“Lebanon, Kansas,” Castiel replied, nodding. 

“Well, you’re about four hours out,” the man said, gesturing to the passenger seat with his head. “Hop in.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said before walking around the car and getting in. “My name’s Castiel.”

“Eric,” the man replied, glancing at Castiel once before focusing on the road again. “Where you coming from, Castiel?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Castiel said. He listened to the music on the radio for a few moments, head tilted to the side. It was a bouncy pop song and made his foot tap to the beat. “I’ve just been travelling the country.”

“Hard thing to do,” Eric said, glancing at Castiel again. He didn’t feel in danger from the other man which was why he’d agreed to give him a ride in the first place. If anything, he’d seemed lost and a little confused. “Why Lebanon? There some sort of attraction there?”

“I’ve got family there,” Castiel replied absently, looking out the window. “It’s been a while since I last saw them. It’s time I headed back home.”

Eric grunted and nodded, letting the conversation die out. The pop song switched to a crooning ballad and filled the car. The four hour drive went fairly quickly, though not fast enough for Castiel. Every few minutes, he would shift in his seat and let out a quiet huff. Eric studied his passenger each time, wondering what exactly he was in such a hurry for. But he didn’t ask, not needing to know. At the edge of town, he stopped the car and turned to Castiel.

“Well, good luck with the rest of your travels,” he said, holding out a hand for Castiel to shake.

“Thank you and you as well,” Castiel told him seriously, shaking his hand. Without another word, he got out of the car and started walking to the city. Eric kept on driving past, turning to get on the highway. As soon as he was out of sight, Castiel headed in the direction of the bunker.

Finally, nearing the end of his walk, he saw the doors leading into the bunker. A tired smile tugged at his lips and he hurried his steps. The door opened quietly and swung in without a sound. He closed it behind him, feeling the wards on the bunker as he passed through them. Voices came from the room below, voices that he recognized. Dean muttered to himself, swears slipping in here and there while Sam seemed to be reading aloud from a book. It felt like home and Castiel moved down the stairs. The tables below were filled with books and papers, both Winchesters looking tired and worn down as they paged through everything. Sam was the first to see him, stopping in the middle of the word he was speaking.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, looking up at his brother in confusion. He saw where he was looking and turned his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Dean’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Those were the only words he could get out before Dean jumped up and folded him into a tight hug. Castiel returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Dean and burying his head in the crook of Dean’s neck. Now he was home.


	11. Candy

As soon as he saw the look on Dean’s face when Cas walked in, Sam decided that he was getting up and heading to his room. There was hope and happiness and a _tenderness_ there that Sam didn’t think he would have seen had he not known Dean as well as he did. There were a few suspicions floating around Sam’s mind about exactly what Dean felt for Cas and vice versa. So when the usual staring contest between the two of them started, Sam made a dignified retreat after quietly gathering up a few books.

He thought he’d be safe in his room for a while, researching further into ways of finding Rowena and looking for any information on the Darkness. Unfortunately, when he opened his door and looked inside, it looked like a candy bomb had gone off. Candy covered nearly every surface and rock candy even dangled from the ceiling on strings. There were piles of Hershey’s and Mr. Goodbars mixed in with bags of licorice and twizzlers. The nightstand next to his bed was piled high with the distinctive pyramid-shaped Toblerone boxes while M&M’s and jelly beans littered the floor. His desk was covered in marzipan, fudge, and what Sam vaguely recognized as Turkish Delight. Rose flavored Turkish Delight. Gabriel reclined on his bed, throwing Skittles up into the air and catching them in his mouth. He was surrounded by more candy, his legs half-covered.

“Gabriel, why did you turn my room into the candy apocalypse?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes when Gabriel threw two Skittles up in the air, caught them, and shot his arms up into the air in a victory pose. “We gave you your very own room to do whatever you want with.”

“Why, Sammy, I liked your room better,” Gabriel chuckled, shoving some of the candy off Sam’s bed with his legs. He gestured for Sam to sit down, glaring at him when he didn’t move. “Besides, it’s fun to share candy. Here, have some.”

Sam glared at Gabriel for another moment, a fluttery feeling in his belly he would flatly deny at seeing Gabriel in his bed, before giving in and dropping down onto the edge of the bed. The books went onto the nightstand next to the pile of Toblerones. He grabbed one of the Toblerone boxes and ripped open the end. Gabriel went back to tossing more Skittles and catching them while Sam ate the first triangle of chocolate slowly. Because he was so absorbed in enjoying the chocolate he so rarely let himself indulge in, Sam missed the warm consideration in Gabriel’s eyes as he watched him eat.

After finishing the first triangle, Sam set the box back on his nightstand. He stood up to pluck one of the rock candy strings from the ceiling, choosing a bright blue one. Sitting back down, Sam sucked on the candy, blue raspberry bursting across his tongue. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered an experiment one of his middle school science teachers had encouraged all of the class to do at home. He and Dean had made a trip to the convenience store near the motel they were staying in after school was out and bought string, sugar, and disposable cups. That night, they’d mixed everything together according to the directions Sam had been given. Before bed, Sam had watched the cup breathlessly waiting for the sugar to crystallize on the string. He didn’t even remember falling asleep but had woken up in his own bed in the morning, Dean snoring in the bed right next to his. He’d woken Dean up excitedly after checking on the candy and finding slim crystals on the string. He and Dean had shared the sticky-sweet treat, cleaning everything up long before their father had made it back from the hunt he’d been on.

“What’s making you smile, kiddo?” Gabriel asked, picking up the Toblerone package Sam had opened and breaking off a triangle of chocolate.

“Just a memory of making homemade rock candy,” Sam replied, licking his lips to get the sugary residue off. “I made Dean take me to the store to get everything we needed. I don’t think he minded, though, when we shared the candy in the morning.”

“Gotta admit that I’m surprised you insisted on making candy,” Gabriel said, deliberately licking slowly over his bottom lip to get all the chocolate off when Sam looked at him. “Not with how healthy you eat now.”

“Candy’s a guilty pleasure,” Sam laughed, looking away to hide the flush he could feel rising on his cheeks. He wished Gabriel wouldn’t be so teasing, even if the gesture appeared to be innocent. It made the secrets he’d locked away in his mind rattle at the lock. “Don’t tell Dean. He’d never let me live it down.”

“My lips are sealed,” Gabriel said, mock-solemnly as he drew a finger across his lips. The bed dipped as he shifted, swinging his legs out over the edge and sitting up. He nudged Sam’s shoulder with his own then swapped the rock candy for the chocolate he was still holding. Catching Sam’s eyes, Gabriel closed his lips over the end Sam had been sucking on.

“Thanks,” Sam muttered, running a hand through his hair as the flush on his cheeks burned hotter. He could only imagine what Gabriel’s tongue might be doing to the candy inside his mouth. What that tongue might do to other things. Too bad he was afraid to find out. But there was no way Sam was going to do anything to damage the friendship they were slowly building. He broke off another piece of chocolate and nibbled at it, trying to ignore the increasingly loud moans that slipped from Gabriel’s mouth.

“All right, that’s it,” Gabriel finally grumbled and snapped his fingers. All the candy disappeared, including the chocolate Sam was holding and the rock candy he’d been sucking on. When Sam turned to him with confusion writ across his face, Gabriel turned to him and wrapped a hand around the back of Sam’s head. Then, he pulled Sam close and kissed him.

“Uh,” Sam said eloquently when they both pulled back from the kiss. “Um.”

“Look, Sam, I’m not the most patient person in the world,” Gabriel explained, fingers playing with the ends of Sam’s hair. “When I saw you were attracted to me and I decided I was attracted to you, I decided to act on it. You never noticed the flirting so I decided to take it a step further.”

“Oh,” was all Sam said before he leaned in to kiss Gabriel again. He licked over the seam of Gabriel’s lips and had to smile when he tasted sugar and chocolate. They continued the kiss for a few moments before Sam pulled back and smiled sheepishly. He felt like he had to explain. “I saw you flirting I just didn’t say anything. I thought it was just you being you and I didn’t want to... I don’t know, make a mistake to screw everything up? Besides, as Cas pointed out the very first time he met me, I’m the boy with the demon blood.”

“And I’m the archangel who ran away and impersonated a pagan god. So what?” Gabriel shrugged. He got up from the bed and faced Sam, putting his hands on his shoulders while staring into his eyes. “That’s all in the past. It doesn’t define us. What defines us is the choices we make and how we choose to live our lives.”

“You know, I gave a very similar speech to someone a long time ago,” Sam laughed, grabbing Gabriel’s hips and pulling him onto his lap. Gabriel went without a fuss, straddling Sam easily. “So, the choices we make huh? I think the only choice right now that I need to make is the choice to kiss you again.”

Gabriel leaned forward barely after Sam had finished speaking and slotted their lips back together. This time, he led with the kiss and it was in no way light or chaste. Gabriel kissed like it was the last thing he was going to do in his life and he was going to enjoy every second of it. Sam could only hold on to Gabriel’s hips while moans vibrated in his throat. Before long, one hand snuck up the back of Gabriel’s shirt. He stayed near the small of Gabriel’s back at first, almost testing how far Gabriel would let him go. When nothing happened, Sam’s hand moved further up, fingernails dragging over Gabriel’s spine. It was Gabriel’s turn to moan and his hips rolled into Sam’s in obvious appreciation.

That dispelled the last of Sam’s doubts about this whole thing. If Gabriel was completely on board then he definitely was. His other hand slid underneath Gabriel’s shirt, rucking up the bottom and exposing his stomach. While they kissed, Sam’s hands explored Gabriel’s skin and his fingers found all the sensitive areas they could. When he pressed the tips into Gabriel’s shoulder blades, Gabriel broke the kiss to let out the loudest moan he’d made so far, eyes slipping closed as his head fell back on his neck. Intrigued, Sam did it again and sucked in a breath when Gabriel rolled his hips harder against his and a very obvious erection met his own. And, with Gabriel’s head rolled back, the length of his neck was exposed and open. Sam took the opportunity to lick and suck his way up from Gabriel’s collarbone. He stopped at the point of Gabriel’s jaw and sucked at the delicate skin.

“Damn kiddo, you’ve got a talented mouth,” Gabriel mumbled. “I like it.”

“What can I say?” Sam laughed, breath feathering over Gabriel’s neck. “I have an oral fixation and I love indulging it.”

“Go for it, indulge away,” Gabriel replied, threading his fingers into Sam’s hair. “I’m enjoying having you indulge it.”

Sam sucked again at the spot under Gabriel’s jaw, making sure he left a red mark. There was a possessive growl burning in his belly now that they’d moved on to this. He wanted Gabriel as his and he wanted everyone to know. And to go by the moans Gabriel was making, he had no problems with it at all. Licking his way along the underside of Gabriel’s jaw, Sam moved to the other side of his neck. He moved a little lower this time and sucked hard at Gabriel’s skin. Only when he was satisfied that there was a good mark there did he let go. Then he claimed Gabriel’s lips again, teasing with his tongue before delving into his mouth.

While they kissed, Gabriel stroked and tugged at Sam’s hair. When Sam licked along the roof of his mouth, Gabriel tugged particularly hard at Sam’s hair and groaned. He continued to roll his hips in short motions, wanting the friction and contact between their bodies. One hand moved down to Sam’s neck. He trailed his nails over the back of it like Sam was doing on his back, pleased when Sam nearly whimpered beneath him. Gabriel did it again and again, in time with the motion of his hips. They were both panting into the kiss now, desperate and needy sounds as their lips met, came apart, and met again.

Neither knew how long this went on, neither really caring as long as it did. As Sam’s hands stroked over Gabriel’s back, his shirt was rucked up higher and higher until Gabriel finally pulled it off with a huff. He dropped it on the floor next to Sam’s bed. Right after, he worked on getting Sam’s shirt off, nearly popping the buttons off in his haste. Sam’s shirt ended up on the floor next to his and then Gabriel was pushing on Sam’s shoulders until he was flat on the bed. Still grinding down into Sam’s hips, Gabriel layered kisses over Sam’s belly and up his chest. He reached Sam’s neck and decided to leave similar marks. He’d sensed the edges of what Sam had wanted in leaving the marks and was surprised at how much he wanted him to. And how much he wanted the same, to show the world that Sam Winchester was his. So Gabriel moved up Sam’s neck and sucked at the skin just above his pulse. Once the first mark was finished, he kissed his way over to the other side and did the same there. Then, he leaned back and studied Sam’s neck.

“Like what you see?” Sam asked, tucking his arms up behind his head and grinning.

“I do indeed,” Gabriel smiled back, running a hand down the center of Sam’s chest. “But something’s missing.”

He leaned down again and nuzzled into the hollow of Sam’s throat. He kissed and licked for a few moments before sucking hard. He laved his tongue over the mark after he was done. After pressing another kiss to the hollow of Sam’s throat, he moved back up to capture Sam’s lips again. As his hands wandered down Sam’s belly, intent on undoing both of their jeans, a knock on the door interrupted him. It opened before either had a chance to say anything.

“Hey, Sam, where’d you go?” Dean asked as he opened the door. “Cas said he was.... oh... my... god.”

“Hiya Dean,” Gabriel said flatly, glaring at the elder Winchester while Sam stared at him with his mouth open. 

“Uh, yeah hi,” Dean replied, struggling to hold in the laughter burbling in his throat. “I think... yeah, I’ll, uh, leave you two to it and talk to you later.”

He backed out and closed the door, peals of laughter fading away as he walked down the hallway. Sam and Gabriel stared at each other for a few seconds once the laughter was gone before breaking out into laughter of their own.

“So, Dean’s not great with timing,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“No kidding, kiddo,” Gabriel replied. “Biggest cockblock around. But we should probably see what’s going on. Did he say Cas?”

“Oh yeah, Castiel found his way home,” Sam said, propping himself up on his elbows. “But he and Dean did their staring thing and I decided to come to my room to do more research.”

“Why don’t we find out what Castiel has to say?” Gabriel suggested. He leaned down to kiss Sam one more time, something sweet and more gentle than their desperate kisses before. “I have to say, I missed my little brother.”


	12. Lake

In the silent room, two women stared at the painting hanging above the bed rather than at each other. Or talk and break the silence as they waited. It was a simple landscape painting done in light, smooth colors. They weren’t quite pastel but they were close. The blue of the lake glowed in the light from the lamp next to the bed. The blue sky above was just a few shades lighter while fleecy white clouds hung suspended forever within the blue. Light splashes of color here and there around the lake denoted flowers while long spears of light brown and crowns of green denoted the trees. They both stared at the painting until an hour passed. Still no sign of anyone else in the room, no sign that the summoning spell had worked.

“He must be dead,” Rowena finally sighed, breaking the silence in the room with disappointment. “I’m sure he would have been here by now if he were alive.”

“Perhaps you performed the spell incorrectly,” Nadia shrugged, flickering out of existence for several seconds before appearing again by the window. She placed one insubstantial hand on the pane as she looked up into the sky. The moon shone down, lighting the ground behind her as it passed through her body. “I’ve never known any of the spells to fail when performed correctly.”

“It was cast correctly,” Rowena snapped through gritted teeth. She grabbed the Book and flipped through it again, checking her translation. Even though Nadia had said it was all correct, maybe the old ghost was finally going batty. But everything appeared to be correct. “Well, I suppose that’s that long. The King is dead.”

“Long live the King,” Crowley’s voice continued the platitude, a smirking gloat in the tone. Rowena and Nadia both turned to see him lounging against the wall near the door, arms crossed over his chest. “To what do I owe this unpleasant visit?”

“Fergus,” Rowena said, standing and stepping a little closer. “I see you survived the angel. Tell me, how did that happen?”

“You don’t make it to King of Hell by not being resourceful,” Crowley replied, a slight tightening of his lips and a roll of his eyes the only evidence of his annoyance at being called Fergus. “What did you want, whore?”

“Oh my dear, is that any way to speak to your mother?” Rowena asked, pitching her voice a little higher than normal. She glanced at Nadia, who still stood next to the window. She was preternaturally still, not even breathing. She looked like a statue and Rowena had to wonder what the ghost thought about her son being the King of Hell. Rowena herself had felt a flare of pride until he’d turned against her. 

“I don’t have a mother anymore,” Crowley shot back. He uncrossed his arms and straightened, annoyance flashing across his face. “Now, if this little meeting is finished, I have more important things to attend to.”

“Wait,” Rowena cried just a second before Crowley disappeared. She stepped forward, one hand flung out, but he was already gone. “Bollocks.”

Nadia just laughed quietly and turned back to look out the window. The moon was full tonight and so bright in a cloudless sky. It was one of the things she’d missed while her codex was locked in that damned box. She’d been trapped inside with it, unable to pass through the protections the Men of Letters had imbued it with. Darkness had been her only companion for long years, darkness and silence. She stared up at the moon until movement on the ground caught her eye. It was Crowley again, standing in the parking lot of the motel. He’d popped back into existence, anger battling with curiosity on his face. 

“He’s outside,” Nadia said quietly, turning to Rowena. The other woman came to the window then and met Crowley’s eyes. An impatient beckoning gesture had Rowena moving to the door. After Rowena left, Nadia turned back and studied Crowley. He was a demon and his body wasn’t the same as when he’d been alive. She vaguely wondered what he had looked like and how Rowena had known this was her son. Then, she dismissed it all as unimportant. All that was important was her revenge and second life. Let Rowena waste her time with this.

Rowena sauntered outside, careful not to seem as if she was hurrying. She had to keep as much of the upper hand as she could in this. Though, were she being honest with herself, she didn’t have much of it. But she had lived for too long pretending to be more powerful or knowledgeable than she was and that would stand her in good stead now. She stopped in front of Crowley, giving him a calculatingly disinterested look before crossing her arms over her chest in a mirror of his earlier stance. She was prepared to wait him out for however long it took in order not to speak first. He was the one who came back, outside of the influence of the spell. Let him explain why.

“I admit, I’m curious,” Crowley finally said after a few tense moments. “Why did you summon me? Wanted to find out if the angel you spelled killed me?”

“That was part of it,” Rowena admitted. “Though I was fairly certain you were dead anyways. My spell’s never failed before.”

“First time for everything,” Crowley smirked at her. “And the other part?”

“Did you feel it, last night?” Rowena asked suddenly. The non sequitur made Crowley blink twice in confusion. “The pressure and the malevolence as something passed overhead?”

“No, I was busy,” Crowley said lightly, though Rowena was sure she could see just the barest traces of worry in his eyes. “Angels to torture, audiences to hold. You know, just being King.”

“Lucky you,” Rowena grumbled, casting a glance skyward. She smiled inwardly when Crowley followed suit, uncertainty rolling across his face before being smoothed away. “I felt it and I was terrified. Not something I admit lightly, mind you. The main reason I summoned you was to ask you about it. Do you know what it might be?”

Rowena gritted her teeth when Crowley let out a delighted laugh. He continued to laugh, one hand braced on his stomach as he leaned over. She sighed and waited him out, wondering how long he was going to toy with her. This was getting ridiculous and suddenly, she wished that the angel had accomplished what she’d set him to do. It shouldn’t have been all that difficult. Crowley couldn’t even move! And yet, here he was, laughing at her until he breathless.

“Oh, I needed that, that was brilliant,” Crowley finally said when he got his breath back. “You have no idea what you released, do you?”

“What _I_ released? What do you mean?” Rowena asked though she thought she knew. It did have something to do with the Mark after all, didn’t it.

“You released something so primal and evil that it hasn’t been around for, hmm, longer than I can even fathom,” Crowley said, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “By destroying the Mark, you released the Darkness. And it’s hunting. Good luck, _mother_. You’re going to need it to survive.”

Crowley disappeared before Rowena could even open her mouth, the parking lot empty except for her and two cars. A cloud floated over the moon, dimming the area and sending chills up her back. The Darkness? She’d never even heard of it, not as a specific entity as Crowley’s words seemed to imply it was. Rowena rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to drive away the chill. Instead of reassuring her that this was something she could deal with or run from, Crowley’s words had had the opposite effect. Suddenly, Rowena wondered if she might have made the biggest mistake of her life in destroying the Mark of Cain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I needed a break and had a family thing. But I should be back to adding chapters regularly. And I even have the outline of the ending planned.


	13. Line

It had been about a week since Crowley had made the deal with the Darkness. While it wore a woman’s form, he wasn’t the least bit convinced it was anything like the mortal it looked like. Nor was it like a demon who were, nearly one and all, once human. Even the most powerful like Lilith and Azazel had been human at one point. Crowley had never met a demon who wasn’t nor had he ever heard of someone else meeting one. The fact that he himself hadn’t been completely human never crossed his mind. When he’d made his deal, he’d been human. The tattered remains of his grace had been in a safe place down in the bowels of Hell, somewhere only he would be able to get to. Living as a human had given him a greater understanding and appreciation for them. And for the pressure points needed to convince each one to commit to a deal and sell their soul.

In the week since the Darkness had bulled her way in and then left, deals had been pouring in. While he didn’t quite know how so many humans knew shit had hit the fan, Crowley wasn’t complaining in the slightest. Every single one of those souls represented power, power that would be flowing directly into him in 10 years’ time. He could wait that long. Besides, by the time the expiration date rolled around, there would be so many souls here he could glut himself to his satisfaction. There were so many humans looking to make a deal that he’d had to promote demons to crossroads demons in order to fill the demand. The upper level demons in charge of holding onto contracts were both gloating and complaining at the influx.

And the best part of it all? Crowley barely had to lift a finger. It was all the Darkness’ doing and whatever instinct was telling the humans the end was upon them. There was a significant upswell in strange deaths and murders, all over the world. That alone told Crowley that the Darkness was feeding, devouring the souls of humans in order to strengthen itself. He couldn’t quite bring himself to call it her or a woman. Not after meeting it and seeing the emptiness and other-ness in its sea glass eyes. Of course, to its face he would after it had showed faint appreciation for being called a woman. No point in angering his ally. He had a feeling the Darkness could feed on demons just as easily as humans.

“Your Majesty,” a demon said quietly, interrupting his reverie. Today, his herald for lack of a better word, was an attractive brunette in a slinky black dress. Her hair was a straight fall of dark brown down a back left bare by her dress. Her eyes were a deep brown that was almost black. Her face was classically beautiful, looking like a statue of a goddess brought to life. She was normally a crossroads demon but had flubbed a few too many contracts recently. The humans had backed out of them. Her eyes were a little too wide in her nervousness and her hands clenched and unclenched. “There’s... someone here to see you. She... she says she met with you last week. That she’s the Darkness.”

“Then by all means, show her in,” Crowley said, sitting up straight on his throne. Today was a rare day where he was in his throne room. Ever since Castiel had escaped, Crowley had spent time brooding here trying to figure out how. The demons in charge of the cells had died painful, torturous deaths. They’d taken Castiel’s place until Crowley could find the angel again. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

The demon nodded her head in short, jerky movements, backing out of the throne room. There was a groaning sound as the doors were opened and then the Darkness swept inside. Crowley watched her approach, automatically switching to calling the Darkness her so he didn’t make a mistake verbally. She still wore the same outfit she’d worn before, still pristine and crisp. Her sea glass eyes were trained on Crowley and there was a hungry look on her face. That look made Crowley swallow and shift slightly on his throne. It made him feel hunted and that was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe the last time was when Castiel had taken in all the souls from Purgatory and had turned into a sort of god.

“Darkness,” Crowley said, inclining his head regally towards the woman. “What brings you here to my throne room?”

“An offer,” the Darkness replied, her head tilting to the side as her unblinking eyes swept the room quickly. She met Crowley’s eyes then and grinned. There was no mirth in that grin. “I’m going hunting and I thought you might like to accompany me. Surely you could do with a few harvested souls?”

“That is a lovely offer,” Crowley said to stall for time. He kept his voice pleasant and bland, trying to be as polite as possible in order not to get himself killed. He had no illusions that he was alive on her sufferance and that she could likely snuff him out without a seconds’ thought. “How has your hunting been going? I’ve been hearing that there’s been more suspicious deaths lately.”

“Delicious,” the Darkness replied, tongue snaking out and licking over her bottom lip. “It has been a feast to rival my hunts of old. And that is why I make this offer, my ally. Come, replete yourself with the hunt.”

Crowley studied the woman for a few seconds, wondering if there was a way he could decline. Something worried him about her words and her body language. Would she forget just who she was hunting? Was this a way to get rid of him? He worried at the side of his cheek, trying to decide what to do. The Darkness was so alien and strange that he could never quite get a read on her. That was incredibly unsettling. But, in the end, the offer of souls and the knowledge that it might strain their delicate partnership decided him. Besides, if she started to turn on him, he wasn’t exactly defenseless. He was the King of Hell, thank you very much, and the son of a witch. There were a few tricks up his sleeve.

“Thank you for the offer,” Crowley nodded again, standing up from the throne in one smooth move. “I’ll join you. When do we leave.”

“Now,” the Darkness said sharply. A coil of shadow extended from her body and wrapped around Crowley before he even had a chance to blink. Then, there was the sensation of movement, of wind rushing past his face even as that shadow blinded him. Not intentionally, he thought, but because it had wrapped around him completely. But before he could panic, he landed on solid ground with a thump. The shadow receded and he saw that they were standing on the street outside a bar blaring music with a steady, throbbing bass line. The Darkness nearly purred, her whole body tilting towards the bar as she sniffed at the air. “Here, yes. Here we shall hunt and feast.”

Crowley followed her inside the bar, looking around and stepping aside quickly when a burly man in a leather jacket, jeans, and red flannel shirt shoved past him to get to the door. After the man left, the Darkness locked the door with a graceful flick of her hand. No one noticed, everyone either playing pool, talking, or drinking. Then, tendrils of darkness spread from her body and out to every point in the bar. The humans still noticed nothing but Crowley could see everything. The tendrils covered the windows, the front door, and, as a waitress in a tank top and tight jeans swung through the kitchen door, the back door as well. When every possible exit was blocked, the Darkness smiled again and took a deep breath. Then the screaming started.

As the woman reached for the patron closest to her, a heavyset man in jeans and a black t-shirt, his companion reacted with hoots of laughter. All they saw was a beautiful woman attempting to flirt with the man. Or so it looked until she gripped the back of his head and ripped it clean from his spine. The three other men at the table screamed and fell back trying to get away from her. They weren’t fast enough. The second man went down, the Darkness’ fist buried up to her wrist in his chest. When she yanked it out, his heart came with it. Then, she reached for the third man and ripped his throat out. After dropping the heart that still spurted blood, she grabbed the last man at the table by the back of his neck. She lifted him easily, his legs kicking at hers but doing nothing. While she studied his face, her hand squeezed slowly at his neck until it was crushed beneath her fingers. Blood spurted from between her fingers and ran down her forearm. 

Only when the first four were dead did the Darkness pause. She licked at the blood on her hands, savoring it. It coated her lips in a cruel parody of lipstick and ran down her chin. And again, only Crowley could see the little flickers of light that denoted a human soul. They slipped between her lips with the blood as the Darkness made swallowing motions. Smacking her lips after devouring the four souls, the Darkness turned to Crowley and gestured at the other patrons of the bar. They were all cowering in corners, under tables, or at the doors. A few were even futilely trying to get the doors open.

“Choose, my ally,” the Darkness said. “This feast isn’t just for me. Choose your souls and partake.”

“Ah yes,” Crowley said, stepping forward. And, incidentally away from the Darkness who was licking the blood off her hands again. He pointed to the waitress from earlier who was cowering underneath a table. “You. Let’s make a deal.”

While Crowley worked out the fine details of the deal, and really it was absurdly simple as the girl just wanted to survive, the Darkness killed her next couple meals. Crowley did his best to avoid watching. While he’d expected something like this with all her talk of hunting and feasting, he hadn’t quite known what to expect when it actually came to her consuming souls. It was unnerving, especially when he knew a demon could become her meal just as easily. He sealed the deal with the waitress with a kiss and moved on to the next person. Before long, he had a crowd of people around him all begging for deals in order to survive. He took them gladly, trying to exult in the flow of souls that would be coming into Hell in ten years’ time. Until the Darkness did the one thing that was completely unforgivable in his book. The one thing that crossed the only line Crowley had set for himself and his demons. She broke the deal he’d set up with the waitress.

The girl had edged over to one side of the bar, her eyes wide with fear and her hand pressed over her mouth to stifle the whimpers she couldn’t control. She’d tried to avoid the blood that was now liberally splashed everywhere but hadn’t quite managed it. There were spots on her white shirt from a spray of blood from a ripped-open chest and one hand was coated in it from slapping down into a pool as she tried to crawl away. By now, the Darkness was almost mindless with the hunger and the rapture of the feast burning through her. All she saw was another soul, a timid fluttering thing that she could take and consume. So she did.

When Crowley felt the deal he’d brokered just minutes ago break, his head whipped up and around to look at the end of the bar. There, the waitress hung slumped in the Darkness’ hand, her once-beating heart slowly being crushed in the other. The white flickers were swallowed up by the Darkness as she licked at the heart, the waitress’ soul disappearing forever. With a snarl, Crowley sealed the last deal with an aggressive kiss that was more like biting than a kiss. The man who’d sold his soul swayed back from the kiss, part of him looking terrified and part looking aroused at what had happened. Crowley brushed it off, standing and stalking over to the Darkness. She let the waitress drop to the floor bonelessly, her body sprawling.

“What was that?” Crowley snapped, pointing down at the dead body. “She was mine!”

“I was hungry,” the Darkness replied, her scarlet tongue licking over her lips to get the last bits of blood from the waitress. “Her soul was delicious.”

“I don’t care!” Crowley yelled. The Darkness merely stared at him, the barest flickers of confusion and surprise in her eyes. Along with the first flickers of anger. “She wasn’t yours to eat. Her soul belonged to me. And now, it’s gone.”

“It was a mistake then,” the Darkness said, flicking a hand as if dismissing the whole affair. “Besides, you have plenty of souls right there. One less will not make that much of a difference. This was a good hunt, my ally. We have both claimed a bounty of souls. With this, I leave you.”

Before Crowley could say another word, the Darkness disappeared as did all the tendrils of shadow holding the building closed. People poured out of now-open doors, hurrying away from the scene of carnage. Crowley watched them go, wondering how long it would take before one of them called the police to the massacre. Anger rumbled in his belly, a white-hot rage that made his hands clench into fists and his teeth grind against each other. It was the only rule he held his demons to: make a deal, keep it. It was that simple. And this Darkness had broken it. Had made him break his word and the contract he’d made with the waitress. That was insupportable. Still seething, he flashed back to his throne room. As he settled himself back into his chair, he propped his chin on his hand and stared off into the distance as candles flickered around him. There was much thinking he had to do. Thinking and remembering, hoping there was a way to kill the Darkness. It had to learn there were some lines you never crossed.


	14. Scar

Not even noticing when Sam got up and tactfully absented himself from the room, Dean contented himself with staring deep into Cas’s eyes. They’d both pulled back from the hug but Dean’s hand was still on Cas’s shoulder and one of Cas’s arms was still on his waist. Dean felt something untangle inside him, a knot and a tension he hadn’t quite realized were there. Cas was back and he was safe. 

“Where you been?” Dean asked quietly, sweeping his eyes over Cas’s face yet again. There were signs of exhaustion and he’d noticed blood on Cas’s hands before he’d pulled him into the hug. “What happened?”

“I’ve been Crowley’s guest. It hasn’t been exactly pleasant,” Cas replied with a wry twist to his lips. He lifted one hand to show Dean the cuff still clasped around his wrist, dried blood flaking away from his skin. “I got out but I couldn’t get the handcuffs off completely. You mind?”

Dean nodded and let go of Cas reluctantly. He hurried to his room and grabbed the keyring he’d dropped onto his desk. Alongside the keys to the Impala and a key to the bunker was a handcuff key. Once back in the main room, he held Cas’s wrists gently while unlocking the cuffs. Cas dropped them onto the table, the metal making a dull clunking noise as it impacted on the wood. For a few seconds once he was free, Cas massaged his wrists and hissed at the main from the cuts. Without saying a word, Dean disappeared again and reappeared with a first aid kit. Holding Cas’s shoulder, he directed him to a chair and pushed him into it. And if his hand lingered on Cas’s shoulder for a few instants too long or came away with what was unmistakably a caress, well, Cas didn’t say anything.

He cleaned the cuts on Cas’s wrists without saying anything, the silence relaxed and easy between the two of them. It felt right to have Cas in the bunker again, as if something was missing without him here. And then Dean remembered the last time he and Cas had been in the bunker together and felt a sharp bolt of guilt twist in his gut. With a faint flush on his cheeks, he finished cleaning the cuts and busied himself with putting away everything he’d used. Hopefully, Cas wouldn't even notice the change in his demeanor. Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

“Dean, is there something wrong?” Cas asked when Dean started to fidget with the zipper on the kit for lack of anything better to do. He reached out and rested his hand on Dean’s, wrapping his fingers around Dean’s to still them. “You’ve been uncomfortable since you started cleaning the cuts. I can assure you, those were the only injuries I had. They won’t even leave a scar.”

“Cas, how can you be so... okay, here, with me?” Dean asked, the words leaving his mouth reluctantly. Guilt twisted in his gut again and he couldn’t bring himself to meet Cas’s eyes. “After last time, what I almost did to you?”

Cas thought about the last time he was here with Dean, of fighting with him and losing. He remembered the tinny fear coating his mouth and the cold certainty that he was going to die here. But he hadn’t. There’d been enough of Dean left fighting the Mark that when Dean drove the angel blade down, he’d impaled a book instead of Cas’s chest. His fingers tightened on Dean’s hand and he used his other hand to grip Dean’s chin and turn his face towards him. Dean resisted at first but Cas kept up the gentle pressure until their eyes met.

“You didn’t kill me,” he said. “You fought the Mark and you won. I know what it's like to be fighting against what’s inside you. And now that you no longer have the Mark, you don’t have to worry about losing to the rage inside. I forgive you for the fight and the moments I thought you were going to kill me. Can you forgive yourself?”

“I don’t think I should,” Dean replied bitterly, wanting to look away from Cas’s eyes but unable to. He couldn’t see any lie in the other’s eyes and it just made him feel even more guilty. He’d been fighting the Mark, yes, but it had felt so much like him at the time. He’d just given in to what the Mark wanted. But he hadn’t killed Cas. Had been able to stop himself from doing that. “But maybe, in time. You said you were a guest of Crowley’s? What happened? I know Rowena cast the spell.”

Cas sighed and started relating the story. He hadn’t known at the time what was going on wherever Dean was, had only known that Dean wasn’t there and that he was rapidly losing to the Mark. Having Rowena cast the spell had been desperation, no matter what the cost might be. He explained how Rowena had used the Book to cast a spell on both him and Crowley, freezing Crowley in place and turning Cas himself into an attack dog. Here the story got a little fuzzy as Cas had no memory from the moment Rowena had cast the spell on him until he woke up in Crowley’s dungeon. He glossed over most of Crowley’s monologue and the beginnings of the torture, though Dean’s hand shook with repressed anger when he mentioned the possibility of being tortured. He moved on quickly, explaining his escape plan and finding his blade on the cart Crowley had brought in.

“And then I flagged down a car to get a ride to Lebanon,” Cas finished, shrugging. “Here I am. I thought this might be the best place to go, especially if you and Sam had made it back here. Besides, it’s home and I had nowhere else to go.”

“Welcome home,” Dean said, smiling at Cas. They passed a moment staring into each other’s eyes again, most of the guilt Dean felt finally fading away. About halfway through Cas’s story, Dean had turned his hand and threaded their fingers together. It had taken him a while to make the decision to do so and butterflies weighed heavily in his belly when he did. But Cas had merely let him do it, continuing his story as if the two of them holding hands was the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it was. It certainly felt that way. “I’m glad you made it back here.”

“Me too,” Cas replied, dropping the hand that had cupped Dean’s chin into his lap.. “But now it’s your turn. What happened with the Mark and afterwards?”

Dean related everything Death had told him when he’d been summoned. Cas nodded here and there, looking a little surprised but not overly so when Dean told him about the Darkness. When Dean got to the fight he and Sam had had, he stumbled a little over his words but kept going. The moment Sam had decided to die had hurt more than Dean could have imagined but his words only halted for a moment or two. Then he explained how, at the last minute, he couldn’t actually kill Sam and had killed Death instead.

“He looked annoyed as all hell and then just crumbled to dust,” Dean said. His thumb was now stroking over Cas’s fingers and had been since he’d gotten to his and Sam’s fight. “After Death crumbled, there was a minute or two where nothing happened and we thought it was over. Then the lightning started. A bolt crashed through the ceiling of the restaurant and hit my arm. It burned so badly but it happened so quickly I didn’t really have time to scream. Then the Mark was gone.”

“What then?” Cas prompted when Dean fell silent and looked away.

“There was silence again and we just froze for a moment,” Dean continued after a deep breath. “But when nothing happened, it seemed like we might be in the clear for once. We headed outside and that’s when shit hit. Black shadows and lightning impacted the ground and the shadow all gathered into one gigantic cloud. Then it started rolling across the land. Sam and I ran to the Impala but it got stuck in a pothole. We thought we were goners until Gabriel showed up. He held the Darkness back long enough for me and Sammy to escape. Now we’re trying to find Rowena, though it’s been about a week since we saw her last. Gabriel said the Book has a way to defeat the Darkness.”

“Gabriel’s here? He’s alive?” Cas asked urgently, looking around the room as if saying his brother’s name would make him appear. “Where is he?”

“I dunno but let me go get Sam,” Dean replied, squeezing Cas’s hand once before standing up. “You and Gabriel can catch up and maybe with all of us working together, we can find Rowena.”

Cas nodded and Dean padded off to Sam’s room. When he’d noticed his brother was no longer in the main room, and wasn’t in the kitchen or the bathroom, he figured Sam had gone to his room to give him some privacy. Dean knocked once on the door and opened it, not bothering to wait until Sam said anything.

“Hey Sam, where’d you go? Cas said he was... oh... my... god,” Dean started to say but the words froze on his tongue when he saw what was going on in Sam’s room. In no way did he ever expect to see his little brother shirtless with a shirtless archangel straddling him on the bed. 

“Hiya Dean,” Gabriel said, glaring at him.

“Uh yeah, hi,” Dean said, holding back the laughter he could feel bubbling in his throat. The smile was a lost cause and he just grinned at Sam who looked back at him abashedly. “I think... yeah I’ll, uh, leave you two to it and talk to you later.”

He headed back out to Cas, finally letting the laughter out in warm peals. One hand clutched at his belly as he dropped into a chair. Cas looked at him with a curious expression, head tilted to the side as he studied Dean. But that merely made Dean laugh harder. When he finally got the laughter under control and took a breath, ready to explain what was making him laugh, Sam and Gabriel walked into the room, both completely dressed again. That sent him off into another explosion of laughter while Sam dropped into a chair with a huff and markedly ignored him. Gabriel and Cas stepped over to one side of the room, hugging each other quickly before having an intense conversation.

Dean studied them once he got his laughter back under control, something a little strange about their conversation needling at him. After a few moments, he realized what it was. Most of their conversation seemed to be nonverbal, glances and shrugs and looks coupled with a shifting of their shoulders that Dean realized meant they must be using their wings as well. It put him in mind of cats or birds, using nonverbal cues to hold entire conversations. It was endearing to watch Cas and Dean didn’t bother to stop the smile tugging at his lips. It felt good. After their conversation, Gabriel and Cas came back and sat at the table, both looking cautiously triumphant.

“So we think we have a way to find Rowena,” Gabriel explained then raised an eyebrow when Cas took Dean’s hand again with hesitation. He smiled at his younger brother, winking lasciviously before leering at Sam. When Sam cleared his throat, Gabriel laughed and continued. “She cast a spell on Cas and, thanks to the Law of Contamination, a piece of her remained behind in the spell. We should be able to use that to home right in on where she is.”


	15. Imagine

There were times when Crowley liked to fondly imagine his life had gone as he’d hoped it would when he first tore his grace out. Living in Hell had been, well, hell and he’d wanted something more. Besides, there’d always been this _longing_ in him, a desire for love and affection. For connection. It was one of the things he admired about the humans God had created. It was really the only reason he’d started considering becoming one of them in the first place.

In the depths and red darkness of Hell, he’d let his mind roam while torturing souls. He’d been at his job for so long now that he didn’t need to put his whole mind to the task. Instead of seeing the gibbering, bloody thing on the rack in front of him, instead of feeling the warm wet slick of blood on in hands and the smooth cool metal of the blade, he saw golden sunlight and felt warm caresses from soft hands on his skin. Felt the touch of gentle lips to his cheek and heard the sweet peals of innocent laughter. Any laughter here in Hell was cruel and dark, a glory in the pain and smell of blood. Not that he himself hadn’t let out one of those twisted laughs, reveled in the pan he’d inflicted. He just craved something more.

So, in between torturing souls, Crowley had spent as much time surreptitiously studying humans. He had a ready lie to his tongue in case he was ever caught: he was watching them in order to find out how to break them even better. How to hurt and maim and destroy when a soul eventually ended up on his rack. And it wasn’t even completely a lie. Just most of one. But he was never caught and he started to get more bold. Soon, the souls were languishing in their cells more often than being tortured. But that was okay. It just meant that the inevitable slicing would hurt all the more for the longer reprieve.

During one of his many forays into watching humans, he found the perfect person to use to enact his plan. She was a witch, a powerful one, and had a fondness for winter solstice orgies. It would be the easiest thing to be reborn as a human through her. So Crowley waited, perfunctorily performing his duties while he dreamed of the life he hoped he would have, the slaking of the craving buried so deep within him he was sure not even Alistair could cut it out. The winter solstice rolled around and Crowley hurriedly prepared himself. Cutting his grace out hurt more than he could have believed but he did it. Dripping blood, he hid it somewhere he knew no one would ever find it. It was twisted and dark now, nothing like the shining blue he remembered. Instead of creating life, as most angels’ grace would, here it created a pocket darkness and a twisted blade that jutted out of the ground. Then, he used the last of his fading energy to cross from Hell into the human realm and into the witch Rowena.

Of course, his life was nothing like what he’d imagined and hoped for. The love and connection he’d wanted for as long as he could remember was completely missing. Rowena didn’t love him and made that clear in several small and large ways. Then she disappeared. Crowley made the best he could of his life, a pain taking root in his belly that he couldn’t get rid of. Even siring a son of his own hadn’t helped. Eventually, he was tired of this life, of being human, and sought out a crossroads demon. That demon sealed a deal with him and Crowley counted down the days until his ten years were up. When the hellhounds came for him, Crowley went willingly back to Hell. It was home, terrible as it might be. He recovered his grace in secret and let himself disappear into the ranks of crossroads demons. Then he waited. He had a new plan now, a new desire to take the place of his old one, and he had the patience to wait until the right time.

Which led to him sitting in his throne and contemplating betrayal and revenge. His patience and quiet scheming had paid off and he’d become the king of Hell. No one would ever have believed it if he’d told them one hundred years ago. Hell, even six years ago demons would have scoffed at him at the very least. But he’d made it and all without breaking the single cardinal rule he’d ever had for himself and the demons under him: make a deal and keep it. He’d killed demons for finding a way around the terms of a deal. The Darkness had flat out _broken_ a deal by killing the waitress who’d bargained for her life. Crowley didn’t even get her soul because, by the Darkness’ actions, the deal had been voided.

“What to do, what to do,” Crowley muttered to himself. The throne room was completely empty, his minions picking up on his mood and wisely leaving him alone. Others of their number had been tortured and killed for annoying Crowley in less angry moods. What might happen to one of them now was not something to be contemplated. Because of the silence, he felt safe speaking out loud. “This can’t stand. And if it’s willing to break a deal, who’s to say it won’t break an alliance?”

Crowley shifted on his throne, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together over his stomach. The beginnings of an idea where forming in the back of his mind, an idea that made his lip curl. He didn’t like it, not at all, so he dismissed it for now. Thinking carefully, Crowley reviewed everything he could remember about the Darkness and everything he’d learned since. Lucifer hadn’t been all that chatty about the thing, even though Crowley had asked the archangel delicately about it a few times. If he were being honest, he shouldn’t have known about the thing in the first place except Lucifer let slip something in a conversation. Crowley had used that and levered further knowledge out of the crack. Unfortunately, all Lucifer would tell him was that the Darkness had been a primal force existing here before God had started all his work. The very first thing God had done after creating the archangels was go after the Darkness. It had taken all of them, with Michael and Gabriel nearly losing their lives, before the Darkness was defeated and chained away. Lucifer himself had agreed to take on the Mark in order to keep the thing caged.

Even now, Crowley wondered if that Mark had been part of what led to Lucifer’s fall. After receiving it, the archangel had slowly changed. He’d lost what warmth he’d had and had withdrawn into himself. There was still love for his brothers but it was a cold thing now. Then came the rebellion and the fall. Lucifer had been locked away himself in a cage and Crowley could no longer speak with him. No more information about the Darkness or about anything else. Which led him back to the rumblings of his first idea: contact the Winchesters. While they likely didn’t know anything, it was possible Castiel did. With him escaping, the first thing he probably did was go back to the Winchesters. It irked Crowley but the angel seemed fixated on Dean. Well, that was a problem for another time. First, dealing with the Darkness. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket and flipped through the small contacts list. There were only about five contacts there so it was short work to scroll to the one labeled “Moose”. Taking a deep breath, Crowley hit send and listened to the phone ring.

“What do you want?” Sam’s voice came over the line, sharp and annoyed.

“Is that any way to greet a friend, Moose?” Crowley asked sarcastically, smiling when he heard a huff on the other end of the line. “How is dear Castiel? He left before our conversation was quite finished.”

“Cas is none of your business,” Sam growled. “I’m hanging up now. Don’t call again Crowley.”

“If you do, you won’t get any help with the Darkness,” Crowley said quickly, leaning forward on his throne in emphasis. 

“Why would you want to help us?” Sam asked suspiciously. Crowley could hear voices in the background of the call and tried to make sense of what they were saying. All of the voices were maddeningly familiar but he couldn’t quite place one of them. The other two had to be Dean and Cas. 

“Let’s just say I have a score of my own to settle with the Darkness,” Crowley said lightly. “Besides, I know more about the thing than you and Squirrel do. I learned about it straight from the horse’s mouth. Or archangel’s in this case.”

“Hang on,” Sam said, voice a little distracted. A strange crackling came over the line and the voices in the background suddenly disappeared. Sam’s voice could barely be heard, muffled and sounding far away on the line. Crowley waited impatiently, one foot tapping at the ground. Finally, Sam came back. “All right, you’ve got five minutes. Tell me everything you know about the Darkness.”

“Oh no no no,” Crowley chuckled. “That’s not how this is going to work. You, Squirrel, and dear Castiel are going to meet me. Then we discuss what I know and how we fight the Darkness.”

“Neutral ground?” Sam asked. There was another silence as Crowley assumed Sam discussed it with the others. “Fine. We’ll meet you. But if this is just a way to get at us or if you’re yanking our chain, you’re going to regret it Crowley.”

The line clicked as Sam hung up and Crowley tucked his phone back into his pocket. The phone beeped just as he took his hand away and Crowley fished it back out. There was a text message from Sam with an address. It would work. Crowley let a satisfied grin cross his face as he put his phone away again. This might actually work. Revenge was going to be sweet.


	16. Quit

“I don’t think this is your best plan, Sammy,” Dean grumbled for the fourth time since they’d gotten to the warehouse Sam had texted the address to Crowley of. Which was four more times than the six he’d complained in the bunker and on the way here. “It’s Crowley. I mean, the guy’s just gonna be salivating for a way to betray all of us.”

“Says the man who was bffs with him not all that long ago. You need to quit bitching,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes at Dean. He was pacing in long, quick steps while Gabriel watched him from the squishy chair he’d plopped down into after snapping it into existence. “Besides, do you have a better plan? Sure maybe we can use whatever Rowena cast on Cas to find her but what if that doesn’t work? And do you have any ideas how to contain her if we do find her?”

“With the Book, she can cast spells on angels,” Cas added ruefully, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “It wasn’t pleasant at all. She may even be able to cast something on Gabriel. This may not be a good plan but it can’t hurt to listen to Crowley.”

“Well, lookie here,” Crowley’s voice cut in, a sardonic lilt in the words. “Cas speaks sense.”

The two hunters and the two angels turned around quickly, the chair Gabriel had conjured up disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Crowley was standing a good ten feet behind them, his hands up to show he wasn’t holding any weapons. Sam stepped forward after a glance at Dean, deciding that since Crowley had called him he would deal with the demon. Gabriel quietly moved a little closer to Sam, keeping a close eye on Crowley while Cas did the same with Dean.

“We’re here,” Sam said shortly. “Talk.”

“My my, no niceties today,” Crowley mocked, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. “Very well, to the point. I want to defeat the Darkness. I don’t know quite how but I thought Cas might have. My own memories of others’ talking about the Darkness are very sparse.”

“Your own memories?” Gabriel cut in, eyes narrowing as he repeated the words. “What do you mean? You were human long after the Darkness was locked away. And the only ones who ever spoke of... oh my Dad, you were an angel, weren’t you?”

Crowley laughed and nodded. The laugh was something low and dark, as if gloating at the triumph of one-upping someone. Or by putting something so far over their heads they didn’t see the truth until you shoved it right in their face. Cas studied Crowley with an annoyed expression on his face battling with surprise. In all the time he’d worked with Crowley (uneasily he might add) he’d never even imagined that he’d been anything more than a human who’d turned into a demon. 

Gabriel stepped around Sam and stalked up to Crowley, stopping right in front of him. He leaned forward until his face was just inches from Crowley’s and stared deep into his eyes. Crowley made no move to step back, merely stared back and smiled slightly. It was as if Gabriel being in his personal space didn’t bother him or that the archangel didn’t exist at all. Finally, after several moments of silent staring, Gabriel nodded and stepped back.

“I know you,” he said. “So you remember what Lucifer used to say about the Darkness don’t you?”

“Yes I do but it was never very much,” Crowley replied, sidestepping the unspoken question he could see burning in Sam and Dean’s eyes. There was no way he was going to tell them who he really was. Who he had been. “And he never talked about exactly _how_ you beat it back. So, care to share?”

“Why?” Dean asked suddenly before Gabriel could reply. “Why do you want to work with us all of a sudden? I’d think this would be a great time for demons. I’ve been getting calls from other hunters about an upswing of crossroads demons. You’re gaining a ton of souls because of the Darkness. Why do you want to defeat it?”

“Because the Darkness crossed a line. It came to me and advocated an alliance. I tentatively went along with it until it crossed that line.” Crowley said simply. “I have one rule and one rule only. I live by it and I make every minion live by it: you make a deal, you keep it. You may remember the fiasco with the two demons with what they thought was a bright idea. The Darkness broke a deal I made and cost me the soul in the bargain. I want it gone.”

That made a hell of a lot of sense to Dean. Crowley had killed the two demons who’d engineered accidents in order for souls to be taken earlier. One demon had brokered the deal while the other had set up the accidents so the demon with the deal didn’t break the terms himself. It had been a brilliant plan. If what you were going for was death and destruction. He tapped Sam on the shoulder and all four of them stepped away from Crowley to discuss his proposal where he (hopefully) couldn’t overhear them.

“So?” Sam asked as he glanced back at Crowley. “He sounds sincere to me. Especially with the Darkness costing him a soul.”

“If it cost him a soul,” Dean said, still playing devil’s advocate to Sam. “All we have is his word. This could all be a trap worked out between him and the Darkness.”

“I don’t think so,” Gabriel shook his head, also glancing back at Crowley. “Like I said, I know him and I can tell when he’s lying. At least, I used to be able to. It’s a little harder now but I don’t think he’s lying. Besides, anger is just radiating off him. It’s almost nuclear.”

“Cas, what do you think?” Dean asked, turning to Castiel and placing a hand on his shoulder in a mirror of the gesture Cas had done earlier. “He had you captured.”

“I think he’s being honest,” Cas replied, tilting his head to the side. “Working with Crowley gave me an... appreciation for his moods and how to read him. It may be the fastest way to defeat the Darkness. And he’ll probably want to find Rowena just as much as we do purely for revenge.”

“So it’s settled?” Sam asked, a small flare of hope growing in his chest. This was the first workable plan they had other than “Find Rowena”. None of them had wanted to contemplate what they would do with her after they found her. “We work with Crowley until the Darkness is defeated?”

“Yeah, yeah I guess,” Dean nodded. They all turned to see Crowley standing in the same position he’d been in watching them quietly. “All right, you win. We’ll work together.”

“Excellent,” Crowley said, grinning a grin that was all teeth and the expectation of blood. He turned to Gabriel and made an elaborate beckoning gesture with one hand. “So how do we defeat the Darkness?”

“First, we find Rowena,” Gabriel said, smirking when rage flashed across Crowley’s face. “Then we take the Book of the Damned from her.”


	17. Fight

She’d nearly finished translating the Book. It had taken quite a bit of work over the last couple weeks and she had a constant headache throbbing behind her eyes. But she was on the final page. Nadia had alternated between being helpful and being smugly unhelpful. Rowena wondered how much longer she was going to have her putative ally. Every time Nadia flickered out of existence, it took longer and longer for her to flicker back. The edges of her body were fading and she looked even more tenuous than before.

“Oh, finally,” Rowena said, sitting back in her chair and rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “I almost can’t believe how long that took to translate.”

“What did you expect?” Nadia asked, her normally vibrant voice sounding hollow and pale. “Power almost never comes without work. At least, dependable power.”

“Perhaps,” Rowena said, pursing her lips. Power had always come easily to her; it was part of why she always craved more. Dropping her hands, Rowena turned to study the ghost sitting on the bed. “You look like you’re disappearing. Losing the fight and desire for revenge?”

Nadia sighed and flickered, almost disappearing before her form solidified. She rose from the bed and walked over to the window. This was a position she’d taken often over the past few weeks, staring out the glass while Rowena worked on the translation behind her. This time, the shine of the glass could be seen through her body along with the edge of the curtain. The cream fabric was a sharp divide through the black of Nadia’s dress. Rowena continued to watch, wondering how much longer Nadia could hold herself together. She’d been a ghost for centuries, only her anger and desire for revenge keeping her alive.

“Not the desire but possibly the strength,” Nadia whispered to the window. Her voice was so quiet Rowena nearly missed the words. “You have to hurry with the spell to bring me back to life.”

Rowena opened her mouth to reply but was stopped as the door to the room slammed open. Both she and Nadia whipped around to stare at the doorway, Rowena’s hands lifted to cast a spell at whoever dared intrude. Standing in the doorway, a leather pouch in his hands, was Crowley. Sam and Dean’s heads could be seen over his shoulders and there was anger and triumph on all three faces. Rowena hissed and started the spell she had in mind. If an angel couldn’t kill her wayward son, then she’d use the attack dog spell on him and set him against the Winchesters. But as she reached the end of the spell, nothing happened. Rowena lowered her hands in confusion as Crowley smirked at her. He brandished the leather pouch then tucked it into a pocket.

“Hello again, whore,” Crowley said as he sauntered into the room. He sat down on the bed while Sam closed the door behind Gabriel and Castiel, the last in the room. The small hotel room was feeling even smaller with the addition of five bodies. 

“Fergus,” Rowena said back, inclining her head regally at Crowley. “To what do I owe this... pleasure?”

“Is that the Book?” Gabriel cut in, moving to the table and picking up the Book. His lip curled into a slight sneer as he paged through it. Towards the end of the Book, almost where Rowena had just finished translating, he tapped a page with satisfaction. “Here it is.”

“Here’s what?” Nadia asked, her whole body flickering again. “What is it you were looking for?”

“A spell to get rid of the Darkness,” Gabriel replied absently, eyes narrowing as he struggled to read through the entirety of the spell. “It may be our only chance with only one archangel running around.”

 _That_ was the last thing Rowena expected to hear. Her mouth dropped open in surprise before she quickly closed it. When Crowley had explained that the Darkness was let loose because she had cast the spell to destroy the Mark, she hadn’t known what exactly it was. Obviously it was something she wanted to avoid, considering the malevolence she’d felt when it had passed overhead. But she hadn’t bothered finding more out about it; she’d spent most of her life hiding from the power she thought the Grand Council had. Hiding from the Darkness couldn’t be much harder. Besides, it had passed right overhead over the protections she’d put on her room. Then the last sentence the man holding her Book had said repeated in her mind. Archangels. Whatever this Darkness was had required archangels to defeat it. There were myths and legends galore about archangels and suddenly Rowena was a little afraid.

“So we have the spell and we can go, right?” Dean asked impatiently, shifting his weight from side to side as he eyed Rowena and Nadia. “Even got the Book back.”

“There’s a small problem,” Gabriel said, sighing as he closed the Book. “There’s bits I don’t understand. Which is saying something as there’s never been a language I’ve come across that I couldn’t translate.”

“What I want to know is why there’s a spell in there to defeat the Darkness,” Sam said thoughtfully. “We can figure out translations but who’s to say that this spell even works? The Darkness is pre-biblical so definitely pre-human.”

“Prophets,” Cas said, smiling slightly. “If there’s one thing our father made sure of, it’s that there was always room for addition or changes to what was written. That was part of why the prophets were created in the first place. I don’t know how this spell was added to the Book or the Damned specifically but it stands to reason that whoever was writing it was used to add that spell. Or someone else added in the spell.”

“You said you couldn’t translate the whole spell,” Rowena cut in, looking at Gabriel as a flash of inspiration burned through her. With the glare Crowley kept sending her way throughout the conversation, Rowena was sure he was trying to figure out a way to kill her. Perhaps she could bargain for her escape and avoid that fight entirely. “What would you say if I had a full translation of that entire Book right here with me?”

“I would say that would be helpful,” Gabriel said slowly, handing the Book to Sam. He held out a hand to Rowena and waited.

“Oh oh no,” Rowena laughed. “If I give you a copy of my translation, I want something in return.”

Gabriel waited in silence, hand still held out. While patience wasn’t exactly his forte, especially with pretending to be Loki over the centuries, he was still fairly certain that he could outwait Rowena. And he wanted her to speak first. Call it impishness, call it a notion of the perverse, but he didn’t want her to make him break first. He could wait. Tension in the room increased as the silence went on and Gabriel let a small smile tug at his lips. He could wait.

“If I give you a copy, I want a free pass to walk out of here,” Rowena finally said, lips pursing again with anger. It stung to speak first but she had the leverage here. They needed her translation, whoever these two extra men were. She made a quick gesture and a sheet of paper appeared in her hand with the translated spell on it. “Do we have a deal?”

Gabriel looked at the paper in Rowena’s hand, chewing on his lip as he thought. They hadn’t really discussed what to do if Rowena tried to bargain or if Gabriel hadn’t been able to read the spell completely. If he were being honest, Gabriel hadn’t even imagined that he wouldn’t be able to read the spell. He’d taken that as a given. But he was the de facto leader considering he was the one who knew what they had to do. He glanced back at Sam, who gave him the smallest shrug. Well, looked like it was all up to him.

“Deal,” Gabriel finally said. Rowena smiled at him, full of teeth, and handed the paper over. While Gabriel read through it, she busied herself gathering her things. Nadia flickered out of existence and appeared again at the door. As Rowena was walking out the door, Gabriel’s voice rang out. “Wait. Wait.”

“We had a deal,” Rowena said, voice rising on the last word. She spun around, her translated spells tucked under her arm and a suitcase in her other hand. “So I’m going to walk out this door.”

“We need you,” Gabriel shook his head, sighing as he handed the paper over to Crowley when the demon reached for it. “The spell requires three different living components. A witch is one of them.”

“Well, well, well,” Crowley laughed, reading through the spell quickly. “What do you know? You might turn out to be useful after all, whore.”


	18. Salvage

It was a nasty argument, made even worse with Crowley’s snide remarks, but eventually Rowena agreed to go back with the group to the bunker the Winchesters made home. It wasn’t ideal but the bunker had everything they might need to deal with Crowley or Rowena. It was also safe and warded; the Darkness seemed to be ignoring the place. At least for the past few weeks since it had been released. Nadia stayed silent throughout the whole exchange though she did give Rowena an intense look laden with meaning when Gabriel mentioned they were going back to the Men of Letters bunker. That was the main reason Rowena had agreed, in the end. Going to the bunker would be a good start in getting Nadia’s revenge.

“Oh lovely,” Rowena commented as she walked down the stairs into the bunker. She looked around with a slight sneer on her face. “Homey.”

“It works for us,” Dean growled at her, pushing past and heading over to the decanter of whiskey on a table against the wall. He poured three glasses, handing one to Cas and one to Sam before downing his own glass. He shrugged at Gabriel with a small smirk when the archangel gave him an expectant expression. “Now, what do we need to get for the rest of this spell? And what are the other two “living components” we need?”

Crowley helped himself to a glass of whiskey, ignoring the glare Dean shot his way. After pouring a decent amount into his glass, Crowley headed over to one of the wooden chairs and sat down. He crossed one leg over the other, the foot in the air idly kicking, while sipping from his glass. He was the image of patience though he was anxious about what else was required by the spell. It didn’t say at all what would happen to the ingredients, or the living components in this case, but knowing this Book, it wasn’t good.

“Are you going to tell him or shall I?” Gabriel asked, slanting a wry glance at Crowley.

“Oh, I think I will,” Crowley said airily, managing a convincing smile he didn’t at all feel. “The other two living components are an angel and a demon. Which we have by the way. Helpful, isn’t it, to have angel minions following you around, huh Dean?”

While Dean bristled and Crowley took another sip from his glass, Cas walked to Dean’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. That was enough to stop Dean’s hand from edging to the knife tucked into his belt. While he wanted to kill Crowley, had wanted to kill Crowley for a while now though life seemed to be conspiring to keep him alive, they needed him. For now. While Dean got his anger under control, Sam kept an eye on Rowena and Nadia. The ghost was floating around the room looking at the artifacts and files within with interest in her eyes. There was something else there, something Sam knew all too well: rage. Rage sparked in her eyes and thinned her lips, growing as she continued to move around the bunker. He didn’t know quite how long Nadia had been a ghost but he did know one thing about them: the more they hung around, the more they lost themselves and the angrier they became. Having this combination of people in the bunker was making his skin itch. Sleep was likely going to be a lost memory until this was all over.

“Witch, demon, angel,” Gabriel repeated, thrusting a thumb at his own chest. “There are a few other ingredients but they should be fairly easy to find. They may even be here in the bunker. Some white candles, smoky quartz, animal bones, and rosemary.”

“We have all of those,” Sam nodded after thinking for a few moments. When Dean turned to him in surprise, Sam shrugged. Last Dean had checked, they hadn’t had any candles or rosemary. The Men of Letters hadn’t stocked either of them. “Emergency candles in case the power goes out and rosemary for cooking.”

“Wonderful,” Rowena said, yawning. “Now why don’t you all patter off and gather the ingredients we need so we can perform the spell? I’d like to spend as little time in this place as possible.”

“Can’t be done, not yet,” Gabriel shook his head, moving over to Sam and wrapping an arm around his waist. “The spell has to be done during the day, preferably when the sun is at its highest. Which means noon. Which means that you won’t need either me or Sam until tomorrow morning. Good night.”

While Gabriel steered Sam down the hallway to the bedrooms, Rowena rolled her eyes. Of course she wouldn’t be able to leave that quickly. Though it was interesting how possessive the angel (and wow she did not see that coming) was of Sam. Something to consider and tuck away for future possible use. Or leverage. Nadia watched them leave with the rage simmering in her eyes. Here she was, in one of the bunkers of the men who had killed her, and she could do nothing. Not yet at least. This grace period before the spell could be performed was useful. If she could convince Rowena to cast the spell that would give her a second life.

“Lovely,” Rowena sighed finally, shifting her grip on her suitcase. “In that case, is there a... room I can use? I’d like to get some sleep before this spell. After all, I am over 300 years old. Beauty sleep is not optional.”

Dean merely pointed down the same hallway Gabriel and Sam had just walked down, ignoring her sighing again. Rowena hefted her suitcase and left the room, hoping to find that the bedroom was somewhat decent. She opened a door at random off the hallway, finding one that was completely impersonal and spartan. It was worse than she’d hoped, the bed a twin size and the rest of the room looking very cold and institutional. Still, she’d stayed in worse places. She could deal with this for a night. Turning to shut the door, Rowena paused as Nadia floated across the threshold and made herself at home on the bed.

“You know, you don’t actually need a bed, being dead and all,” Rowena said as she tucked her translated spells into her suitcase and slid the suitcase under the bed. “I, however, most definitely need the bed.”

“It’s time to hold up your end of the bargain,” Nadia said without moving from the bed. She merely looked up at Rowena, the rage simmering behind her eyes. She was a little more translucent than before and Rowena could nearly see the pattern of the bedspread through her. “This is my chance to take revenge on the Men of Letters. But for it to be lasting, I need to live again. Cast the spell Rowena.”

\--------------------------------------

“So what, we just leave the others to fend for themselves?” Sam asked when Gabriel closed the door behind them both. “I think that might spark one hell of a war.”

“We can leave them alone for one night,” Gabriel disagreed, leaning up to press a light kiss to Sam’s lips. “I can hear Rowena walking down the hallway so she’s likely finding a room. And Cas and Dean have some lost time to catch up on. I’m pretty sure it won’t be long before they head off too. Crowley, for all that he’s King of Hell now, knows me and knows what I will do if he messes anything up in here.”

“Wait, yeah, I was wondering about that,” Sam said, pulling away from Gabriel and sitting on the bed to start unlacing his boots. “You said he was an angel. I mean, Crowley? He was human. We met his son.”

“I don’t know exactly what happened but yes, Crowley was an angel at one point,” Gabriel said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “He sided with Lucifer during his rebellion. So when Michael beat Lucifer and he was kicked out, all those who sided with him went too.”

Gabriel stopped there, not wanting to consider what Hell might have done to the angel Crowley once was or what he had done to become human. There really was only one way for an angel to become human and it was incredibly painful. It also cut out an essential part of who an angel was, what an angel was. Gabriel couldn’t imagine cutting out his own grace and wondered what had driven Crowley to. But it didn’t really matter. It had happened. Though it did give him an edge when it came to dealing with the demon now. He shook his head and managed a smile at Sam, who was now working on unbuttoning his flannel shirt after toeing his shoes off.

“So, Samsquatch, this might be my last night on earth and all,” Gabriel winked, sitting on the bed next to Sam and leering up at him. “Got any plans for how I should spend it?”

Sam laughed pulled Gabriel against his side. One hand snuck under Gabriel’s shirt to splay against his back. Leaning down slowly, Sam kissed Gabriel and nibbled at his bottom lip. Gabriel, impatient, opened his mouth and pressed into the kiss. But Sam wouldn’t let him move faster, merely pulling back slightly so that their lips were barely touching. The hand on Gabriel’s back slid up, taking the shirt with it until it was rucked up under Gabriel’s arms. Suddenly, Sam pulled the shirt up, trapping Gabriel’s arms in the folds so that he couldn’t move.

“I have a few ideas,” Sam said, leaning down to trail kisses over Gabriel’s chest. “How about we get started on those?”

\-------------------------------------

“Dean, you should sleep,” Cas said a few minutes after Rowena left the room. The whole time, there had been a strained silence between Dean and Crowley while the two glared at each other. Well, Dean glared. Crowley merely watched with the barest traces of a smug smile on his face. Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder again, turning him away from Crowley and making him meet his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, shaking his head and tossing one more glare over his shoulder at Crowley. While they walked to Dean’s bedroom, Dean’s hand crept down and over to Cas’s, twining their fingers together. The door shut behind them with a satisfying click and Dean lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Cas’s knuckles. “Man, it has been one strange day.”

While Cas chuckled and nodded, Dean started stripping out of his clothes to change into the boxers and t-shirt he wore to bed in the bunker. It was nice having a home base rather than sleeping in hotels. He felt more secure and able to sleep less than fully clothed. And now with whatever was happening between him and Cas, the less layers felt more intimate. More like home. Though Cas was sharing Dean’s room and bed, things had progressed slowly between them. Even though they had years of tension built up between them, it didn’t seem to matter as much now that they’d admitted it to each other. Admitted that their need for the other was more than just information or hunts. That it was love.

Cas was quicker than Dean at changing. Though, to be fair, he usually slept in just a pair of boxers. He was already pulling back the covers on Dean’s bed and sliding in while Dean was slipping his t-shirt over his head. Dean slipped into the bed after turning off the light, pulling the blankets up over both of them while Cas wrapped himself around him. They usually slept tangled together and not just because the bed was so small. Dean ducked his head to bury his nose in the dark curls of Cas’s hair while Cas tucked his head into the crook of Dean’s neck. Then they just breathed quietly as the bed warmed to their body heat. The silence was comfortable and familiar.

“Do you think this is really going to work?” Dean finally asked, voice a whisper in the dark room. “I mean, it seems so simple.”

“I hope it does,” Cas replied, his lips a featherlight touch against Dean’s pulse. He kissed Dean’s neck, just because he could now, and tried to push away the worry he felt. “It does seem simple but sometimes the best spells are.”

“Maybe,” Dean said doubtfully. He rubbed a hand over Cas’s back, enjoying the feel of his skin. It soothed both of them. “But if it does, how do we know it won’t just cause more problems?”

“If it does, then we deal with them,” Cas replied decisively. “We always do.”

Dean nodded and felt a little bit of his worry fade away. They’d weathered so many things. This would just be one more. Though he felt acutely responsible for this one. He’d worn the Mark after all. He’d made the choice to kill Death in order to save Sam. The only reason the Mark had been destroyed was because Sam and Cas had wanted to save him from it. But he ran over in his mind all the things he’d survived, all the things he and Sam and Cas had made it through. Deaths, hunts, demons, ghosts, angels, monsters. Purgatory and Heaven and Hell. Throughout it all, throughout all the arguments and doubts and betrayals, they’d survived and carried on. They would do it again. 

To the sound of even, steady breaths, the two men fell asleep. Morning was going to come quickly and there was a lot Cas wanted to do before even attempting to cast this spell. For all his reassurances to Dean, he was still worried over what would happen when they cast the spell. He wanted to have as many protective sigils and wards in place as he could before it was cast. So many things could go wrong. Especially with all the disparate players to this little drama. Who knew what Crowley might get up to? Or Rowena with her ghost companion? But Cas was confident that no matter what might happen, they would salvage something from it. There was no other choice.


	19. Prize

She didn’t have much time if she was going to cast the spell to give Nadia back her life. There were several ingredients that needed to be gathered and there was a time component to the spell itself. It required at least an hour for the whole thing to be completed. At least they were in what basically amounted to a magical grocery store. After asking Nadia to search through the bunker for the ingredients they needed, and biting her tongue at the almost servile tone she used, Rowena busied herself with going over the spell again. It was complicated though it wasn’t one of the most complicated she’d ever cast.

Nadia floated through the bunker, seething with rage and gritting her teeth. The fact that she was in the home of her enemies burned her, left a terrible taste in her mouth. At least, she would have those physical sensations if she were alive. And she would again. Soon. Her revenge was so close at hand as was her second life. It was the only thing that had kept her going while she was trapped in that damn box, what had kept her from fragmenting or turning into a mindless thing that attacked whatever it could. And now, the possessions of her enemies would help her. There was a certain irony in that that she enjoyed.

The first place she stopped in was the kitchen. It was fairly close to the bedrooms and the hallway went right past it. There were a few herbs here that they would need and Nadia marked the bottles in her mind to tell Rowena. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite carry everything she needed. Especially with how tenuous she’d become lately. There was a good chance that whatever she was trying to carry would just fall right through her hands. The noise would likely draw all sorts of attention she didn’t want also.

Moving on, Nadia headed into what looked like a storage room. It was filled with rows and rows of metal shelving. There were all sorts of things on the shelving along with several labeled boxes. Here she found a few more components of the spell and grinned. This was easier than she thought it would be. The Men of Letters were definitely well-provisioned and, even if they didn’t use the items, they kept it safe. Or so they thought. Carefully, Nadia started digging through the boxes. More and more ingredients joined the mental checklist she carried and her grin grew wider and wider. If she had had a heart, it would have been beating quickly while adrenaline flooded her veins. So close. So very close. But there was one last ingredient that wasn’t in any of the boxes. It made sense, really. How often did the Men of Letters come across demons and how many of them would think to take blood?

Going through the last box, Nadia let out a sigh and rested her hands on the metal rails of the shelf in front of her. Maybe there was a way she could get blood from Crowley. No better demon than the King of Hell. The only problem would be getting it without him knowing. With how long the spell took to cast, if he knew his blood had been taken, Crowley had plenty of time to stop it. While she contemplated, Nadia rested more and more of her nearly insubstantial weight against the shelf. While it was barely enough to register as weight, it was enough to push the shelving and reveal the fact that it was connected to a swinging wall. As she caught her balance, Nadia examined the little room with growing interest. It looked a bit like a dungeon, with a chair in the center of the room and runed chains hanging from the ceiling. Then her attention was caught by rusty brown smears on the arms of the chair. Could it be...?

Nadia drifted forward slowly, eyes intent on the smears of what looked like blood. The runes she could translate seemed to be wardings against demons. The blood might be exactly what she was looking for. Stopping in front of the chair, Nadia reached down and touched the blood delicately with one pale finger. The sensations she got from it confirmed that it was demon blood. Nothing else left the scent of sulfur and the feel of heat like it. Breathing out a relieved sigh, Nadia flickered out of existence. Now that she found everything she needed, she wasn’t going to waste time going back to Rowena’s room through the whole bunker. 

Appearing again in Rowena’s doorway, Nadia held a finger to her lips and beckoned for Rowena to follow her. Silently, the two women retraced Nadia’s steps. They stopped in the kitchen where Rowena gathered up bottles of garlic, cloves, cinnamon, and a lemon from the fridge. Then they moved on to the storeroom. The boxes were all still opened and the swinging wall with the shelving attached was still open showing the secret room within. Rowena took in the room and whistled quietly. It nearly bristled with power to her senses.

“Quickly,” Nadia whispered, pointing to the boxes that contained the ingredients they needed. “We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rowena mumbled, rolling her eyes. She grabbed an ankh made of gold that was nearly as big as her palm, a wand made of tiger’s eye, and a silver bowl. From the boxes came a chunk of petrified wood, a few bones that were so old they looked like creamy ivory, the Death card from a Rider-Waite tarot deck, and the Wheel of Fortune card from the Visconti-Sforza tarot deck. “What about the blood?”

“Here,” Nadia replied, pointing to the chair. “This is demon blood.”

Rowena nodded and pulled a handkerchief out from a nearly invisible pocket of her dress. She wetted it on her tongue then used that to scrub at the dried stains. A little bit of the blood came up and Rowena folded the handkerchief over itself and slipped it back into her pocket. Then, as quietly as they’d come, both women headed back to her room. Rowena closed the door behind them, flipping the lock. It would buy her a few seconds’ time to think if anyone tried to barge in during the spell. Then, she set all the ingredients down on her bed to sort through them. It seemed they were ready.

“Hurry,” Nadia urged her on, dry-washing her hands as she watched Rowena go through the ingredients. “I’ve waited long enough. Hurry.”

“No point in asking whether you’re ready then,” Rowena said dryly, glaring at Nadia for a moment. She took the silver bowl and laid the ankh down in the bottom of it. She laid the Death card on top of the ankh, adjusting it until it was centered. The herbs were next, garlic and cloves and allspice sprinkled on top of the card and throughout the rest of the bowl. She peeled a bit of the skin away from the lemon and dropped it into the bowl before squeezing a little juice into the bowl. 

“Now it needs to sit while I roll the wand around the edge of the bowl,” Rowena said, picking up the tiger’s eye wand and tracing the rim of the bowl with the side of it. “Would you hand me the translation of the spell please?”

Nadia narrowed her eyes but did as asked, concentrating hard to keep the paper from falling through her hand. Now that her resurrection was so close, it was getting harder to concentrate enough to keep her form. The edges of her body were ragged now, like a flag that had been left in the wind too long. After handing the paper to Rowena, Nadia floated to a corner of the room and waited. She had no role in this other than to be the recipient of the spell. It was a big part of why she couldn’t cast the spell herself.

After taking the paper, Rowena ignored Nadia and read through the spell. She needed to keep rolling the wand around the bowl for ten minutes, letting the power of the ingredients she’d added combine in the bowl. It was boring but Rowena contented herself with imagining all the ways she might take revenge on her annoyingly alive son. Silence reigned in the room except for the slight sloughing sound of stone on silver. After ten minutes had passed so slowly they felt like an eternity, Rowena put the stone down and read the next part of the spell.

“The demon blood,” Nadia said helpfully, floating forward a few inches. “It goes in next.”

“Yes, I know,” Rowena said, struggling hard not to snap at Nadia. She pulled the handkerchief out of her pocket and ripped the small section with demon blood off. She dropped it into the bowl then added the bones. “And now, we roll the wand around the silver again. This time, for twenty minutes.”

With a sigh, Rowena picked up the wand again and started tracing the edge of the bowl. This was going to be incredibly tiring. To pass the time, she listened to the sounds she could hear in the rest of the bunker. There were some... provocative noises coming from the room to the left of hers, noises that told quite plainly what the occupants were doing. She couldn’t quite place either of the voices then decided it didn’t particularly matter. There were only a few different combinations of people it could be and all of them amused her no end. There were no noises from the room on the right of hers after the footsteps walking to it and the door closing. While Nadia had been searching for ingredients, Rowena had heard whispered voices but, again, couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or who they were. 

There were other noises in the bunker, noises that sounded like they were coming from further away. Footsteps paced on tile, soft enough that Rowena had to strain to hear them. Someone wasn’t able to sleep tonight. There was also groaning and creaking as the bunker settled around them and air flowed through the ducts. A sloughing sound that was a pleasant accompaniment to the sound of the stone on the bowl was the water flowing through the pipes. At about the twenty minute mark, the noises to the left of her finally abated. There was a whispered conversation, footsteps moving around in the room, and then silence. 

Gratefully, Rowena dropped the wand back on the bed. She would need it one more time but not for a while yet. While Nadia watched avidly, hunger now battling the rage in her eyes, Rowena picked up the Wheel of Fortune card and set it on top of the herbs. Then, with sure, practiced movements, she picked up each of the bones, snapped them in two, and arranged them around the bowl so that they circled the pile in the middle. This combination of ingredients had to steep, for lack of a better word, for fifteen minutes. Rowena took the time to massage her hand, rubbing away the cramp that had developed about halfway through the last section of the spell. Nadia dry-washed her hands again and licked her lips as she stared at the bowl.

“All right, last ingredient,” Rowena said once the fifteen minutes were up. She picked up the chunk of petrified wood and set it on top of the Wheel of Fortune card. The pile wobbled for a moment and Rowena caught her breath, hoping it didn’t all topple over. The spell would have to be redone if it was. But the pile steadied and both women breathed out a sigh of relief. “Now, just for the chant and one last chunk of time circling the bowl with the wand. You ready to be alive again?”

“Yes,” Nadia said, a wealth of desire and hope in the word. “Hurry, Rowena. Please.”

Picking up the sheet of paper and the tiger’s eye wand, Rowena started tracing the rim of the bowl again. She read through the chant quickly to make sure she had the words right. Then, in a low, sinuous voice, she started the chant. The spell called for the chant to be spoken for the whole last fifteen minutes while the wand circled the bowl. And it was. During that time, Nadia couldn’t keep still. She drifted from one side of the room to the other, casting several glances at the bowl as she went. After about ten minutes, she noticed that it was getting harder and harder to move. She didn’t just float along as she used to. Then she noticed weight. It was imperceptible at first but rapidly grew. It felt like something was weighing her down and her feet settled firmly on the floor. Then the most miraculous thing happened. Her chest rose, her lungs filled with air, and her heart started beating. A wide grin pulled at her lips as Nadia turned to Rowena just as the spell came to a close.

“It worked,” Nadia said, pressing one hand to her cheek and the other over her now-beating heart. “I’m alive again.”

“Perfect,” Rowena said, dropping the wand and rubbing her hand again. She swallowed a few times, working some moisture into her mouth and throat, before smiling at Nadia. “Now you have your prize. It’s time for your revenge.”


	20. Hellion

The next morning came far too early for nearly everyone involved in the effort to defeat the Darkness. Of them all, only Crowley hadn’t slept the night. He’d spent it pacing the large room in the bunker and studying the artifacts and papers scattered around. If he’d been able to worry about anything else, he might have felt the beginnings of fear at the sheer amount of knowledge that existed in that room. Much less in the rest of the bunker. But instead, he felt a mild curiosity and respect for what the previous Men of Letters had done.

Dean and Castiel woke up still wrapped around each other, Dean’s nose buried in Cas’s hair. For a few moments, Dean just reveled in the fact that Cas was back and that they’d worked out at least this much between them. It felt like home and he was already quite addicted to it. Cas felt the same way about Dean, had since he’d pulled him out of Hell all those years ago. A bond had been forged between them in that moment that had compelled Cas to choose Dean over and over and over again. It was something he wouldn’t take back if he could, no matter the cost. They got ready slowly, hands wandering lightly over disappearing flesh and kisses being stolen with soft laughter.

Sam and Gabriel had been awake for some time by the time Sam’s internal clock told him it was about time to get up. They’d been talking quietly, events from their pasts and what each had been doing in the intervening years since the averted Apocalypse. Neither spoke of the future but that was all right. Now was enough for both of them and each was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. When Sam got out of bed to dress, he had to laugh at Gabriel. The archangel whistled and propped his arms behind his head, leering at Sam while he dressed. And, of course, Sam returned the favor when Gabriel finally got out of bed.

Rowena left her room first, after Nadia had left once the spell to bring her back to life was completed. She wasn’t sure what the woman was going to do nor did she want to be involved in it. They’d both gotten what they wanted out of their association together and it was time to go their separate ways. And none too soon, in Rowena’s opinion. Having to work as almost an apprentice and dealing with Nadia’s scorn and patronization had been trying her patience. Now, she was free, she had the translated Book, and she had all the keys to the power she craved. But first, one more thing to take care of. The Darkness. She headed out to the large room and sat down gracefully at one of the tables, studiously ignoring the still-pacing Crowley. Amusing herself deciding what spells to use against Crowley passed the time until the others came out of their rooms.

“So where’s your ghost friend?” Dean asked once his eyes swept over the room. “She decide to go chill somewhere else?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Rowena said truthfully, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “But she isn’t going to get in our way.”

“Well that’s good,” Gabriel interrupted before Dean could reply. He clapped his hands together sharply twice and then held out one hand palm up. The Book of the Damned appeared in his hand and Gabriel winked at Sam. “So, why don’t we start getting everything together. We’ve only got a few hours until noon.”

Sam padded into the kitchen, hiding a yawn behind his hand. The white emergency candles were stored in one of the cabinets while the bottle of rosemary was on the counter with the rest of the spices. Besides, he was hungry and breakfast sounded perfect right about now. After pulling out the candles and setting them next to the rosemary, he started pulling out things for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns started cooking in different pans filling the kitchen with delicious scents. After a few minutes, Gabriel wandered in sniffing at the air appreciatively. He moved right over to Sam and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, resting his head on Sam’s back.

“You know it’s a little awkward to cook like this,” Sam half-heartedly complained, wrapping his fingers around one of Gabriel’s wrists. Though he made no move to get away. He actually rather liked how clingy the archangel was.

“Not too awkward,” Gabriel replied, voice muffled against Sam’s back. He chuckled and squeezed Sam in a tight hug. “Besides, possible last day on Earth, remember?”

“How long are you going to milk that for?” Sam laughed, flipping bacon pieces so that they didn’t burn.

“As long as I can,” Gabriel said, squeezing Sam again.

While Sam dealt with his two ingredients and breakfast, Dean headed to the storage room to get the ingredients he knew were there. Last he’d looked through the stored boxes, there was a decent variety of animal bones. The spell didn’t seem to call for any specific ones so he figured he’d just grab a variety. But as soon as he stepped inside the storage room, he knew something was wrong. All of the boxes were opened and things were stacked haphazardly on the shelving and on the floor. Also, the swinging door was wide open, showing the little dungeon that was hidden behind it. Dean swore quietly, wondering who had gotten in here. It could only be Rowena or Crowley. Cas had been with him all night and neither Sam nor Gabriel would have done this.

After debating for a few moments, Dean decided to grab the bones before confronting their two guests. This spell was important and everything else was secondary. He searched through the mess in the room, muttering under his breath. The smoky quartz he found fairly quickly, a large point as big as his hand sitting on the floor in between some of the shelves. It was so thick he could barely wrap his fingers around it. Surely it would be good enough for the spell they needed to cast. The animal bones prove trickier to find. Dean searched through the boxes after seeing they weren’t on the floor or shelves, his movements getting more and more desperate. Finally, he was at the last box and there was no sign of bones at all.

“If they aren’t here, we’re screwed,” he muttered to himself. “Please be here, please be here.”

He dug through the box, murmuring pleas to whoever would listen. And it looked like someone was: at the very bottom of the box were three bones. He pulled them out, studying each as he did so. One was a tiny vertebra, maybe from a rat or a vole. Another was a thigh bone that he couldn’t place. It just looked like a bone to him and was maybe about the size of a cat’s bone. The third was a racoon skull. He juggled the bones in one hand while picking the smoky quartz point up. He moved carefully, not wanting to drop or break anything. They probably wouldn’t work if they were broken.

Delicious smells reached his nose as he walked out and Dean sniffed at the air. He could smell mostly bacon but there was a slight scent of eggs underneath it. His stomach grumbled and all of a sudden, he realized just how hungry he was. He set the ingredients he’d grabbed on one of the wooden tables, snagged Cas’s hand, and headed into the kitchen. Cas had stayed out with Rowena and Crowley, eyeing both of them suspiciously. Though it wasn’t necessarily needful. They’d all passed several hours fairly peacefully in the bunker during the night. If either was going to try anything, wouldn’t they have done it then? The Darkness definitely made for odd bedfellows.

“Good timing, breakfast’s done,” Sam said as Dean and Cas walked into the kitchen. He had just set a giant plate of eggs down on the table next to an equally giant plate of bacon. Hash browns were next, nice and brown from their time in the pan. “Have at it.”

The four of them enjoyed a leisurely breakfast until Rowena walked in. They joked and talked of nothing much. It was a rare moment where they could just be normal people without worrying about the fate of the world or the lives of innocents. But when Rowena joined the breakfast, spooning eggs, bacon, and hash browns onto her own plate, the talk stopped. There was a cold silence in the kitchen, one Rowena seemed to enjoy as she sat down in one of the open chairs and ate with every evidence of enjoyment. She kept shooting glances at the four others in the kitchen, not bothering to hide the little smirk she seemed to be wearing constantly this morning.

“So, I found something interesting in one of the storage rooms,” Dean said conversationally after he’d demolished about half of his plate. “It was ransacked. Stuff was all over, boxes were opened, and the shelves were pushed aside. I know some of the animal bones were taken but I won’t know what else without looking at that inventory list you found, Sammy.”

“Who did it?” Sam asked, eyes wide with surprise. “Why?”

Dean snorted and glared pointedly at Rowena, who chose that moment to look down at her plate and carefully spoon some eggs and hash brown up. That merely confirmed Dean’s suspicions. Had she known nothing about it, Rowena would likely have needled them about break-ins or something. Her silence usually meant that she knew something. Dean dropped his fork onto his plate, appetite suddenly gone.

“Care to share what you know?” he asked Rowena, leaning forward with a glare in his eyes. “You and Crowley were the only ones up and he has his own resources.”

“I don’t think I do care, no,” Rowena said airily, shaking her head. “It has no bearing on the spell to defeat the Darkness so it doesn’t particularly matter right now, does it? The Darkness is our enemy and we should be focusing on it, don’t you think?”

“For now, she’s right,” Sam said, holding up a hand when Dean opened his mouth to argue. Dean shut his mouth with a snap, reflecting angrily on the fact that that had been happening a lot lately. “We can figure it out later. As for the spell, it’s nearly time.”

“We do have some prep work to do before the actual casting,” Gabriel agreed, eating the last of his breakfast. After setting his fork down, he snapped his fingers and a bag of gummy worms appeared in his hand. He shared with Sam before stuffing a whole worm into his mouth. “We should get started.”

Once Sam, Cas, and Rowena were finished with their breakfasts, everyone headed out in a tense, slightly angry group. Crowley was sitting at one of the tables, looking over the ingredients there and enjoying a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid glimmered almost like it was on fire when Crowley was holding the glass and disappeared when he let it go. Gabriel gathered up the ingredients, handing the translated spell to Sam. Then, again in a tense, slightly angry group, they all trooped outside.

“We probably shouldn’t cast this right next to the bunker,” Gabriel said thoughtfully after looking around outside. “Let’s head into the woods a bit.”

“Wonderful,” Rowena sighed. “Hiking.”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Cas said darkly, glaring at Rowena. He hadn’t forgotten the spell she’d cast on him nor the pain he’d endured because of it. Just because he couldn’t remember didn’t mean his body had forgotten. “This may be the last bit of freedom you have.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Rowena laughed sweetly. “Remember the spell I cast on you? It worked, didn’t it? Maybe I’ll try again. Or something new from the Book. The possibilities are endless.”

This time it was Dean who stopped Cas, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering soothingly in his ear. Rowena’s smirk grew wider, expecting that Dean was telling Cas that they couldn’t afford to lose her, couldn’t anger her, blah blah blah. It would have chilled her to hear what Dean was _really_ saying. The reassurances that they could kill her in a couple hours, that she wouldn’t even see it coming, and that they wouldn’t even need anything special because she was human did not go with the tone of Dean’s voice at all. But it worked, calming Cas enough that he nodded. Everyone followed after Gabriel, Cas and Sam both casting glances skyward to check the sun. It was nearly at its height, noon only about an hour away. Both would be happy when this was finished, for different reasons.

“Okay, here should be good,” Gabriel said, setting the spell components down. He snapped again and a bowl appeared in one hand and a knife in the other. “Why don’t we get started.”

He drew the knife across the palm of his hand after putting the bowl on the ground, letting blood mingled with bright blue grace drip into the bowl. After enough had filled the bowl, the cut on his hand closed and Gabriel handed the knife to Crowley. Grimacing, he cut his palm. Blood stained black with demon smoke flowed into the bowl. It didn’t mix well with Gabriel’s blood, the two fluids shifting and roiling in the bowl. Once enough blood had filled the bowl, the cut on Crowley’s palm healed like Gabriel’s. Then he held out the knife to Rowena. She merely glanced at it, one lip turning up in a sneer.

“I don’t like this idea,” Rowena said, tucking her hands behind her back. “I mean, really. Blood? Do you really need my blood for this? Surely an angel and a demon is enough.”

“Cut your palm or I can do it for you,” Crowley said, a tinge of threat weaving throughout the calmness in his voice. He waved the knife a little while a cold glee lit his eyes. “I would definitely enjoy helping you with cutting your hand.”

“Oh give it here,” Rowena snapped, grabbing the knife from Crowley’s hand. She sliced her palm, hissing at the pain. Her blood dripped into the bowl, looking just like normal human blood. Which is was even with her being a centuries-old witch. There was a slight hissing noise as her blood mixed with the others in the bowl. As more and more blood dripped in, the roiling and shifting slowed and stopped. Finally, Rowena pulled her hand away and used a white cloth she pulled from a nearly invisible pocket in her dress to bind the wound. The three types of blood in the bowl had completely stilled by the time she was done. “Hmm, interesting. Human blood to bind the other two together. I wouldn’t have expected that to happen.”

“So now what?” Cas asked, squinting up at the sun. It was nearly noon and he was impatient. “Can we start now?”

“A little bit longer,” Gabriel said, glancing up at the sun as well. “The actual spell has to start at noon.”

He picked up the translated sheet and handed it to Rowena. As the resident witch, she would have to be the one to cast the spell itself. Then he busied himself with setting up the other ingredients. The smoky quartz point went into the bowl first, displacing enough of the blood that it was in danger of slopping over the rim. But he narrowed his eyes at the bowl and it grew enough so that there was plenty of room for everything that needed to go into it. The animal bones he crushed up into a fine powder in his hands then dusted the powder over the blood and the quartz. The rosemary was last, sprinkled over the powder. Then, Gabriel stood up and dusted his hands off.

“There,” he said. “Now we just need to wait and Rowena will say the spell.”

“What happens then?” Sam asked, trying to read the paper Rowena held. “How will we know that it worked?”

“To be honest, Samsquatch, I don’t know,” Gabriel shrugged, spreading his hands out. “This spell’s never been cast before. Anything could happen.”

“Lovely,” Rowena repeated, shaking her head. “Well, the sun looks at about the zenith now. I’m going to start casting the spell.”

The others stood back as Rowena stepped up to the bowl. She read through the spell once, mouthing the words. Then, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. As a ray of sun hit the smoky quartz and lit the bowl with a sullen aura, Rowena’s mouth opened and syllables rolled out. They were sonorous and somehow large, seemingly larger than language should be. They had an air of darkness and shadow to them, of prehistoric times and savage monsters. Of fear and juddering hearts and the fervent wish to make it through the night one more time. Rowena’s voice rose as she chanted the spell, almost coming to a scream. The last few syllables exploded from between her lips, spat out with a snarl and a roar. Then, silence reigned in the small clearing.

“Did it work?” Crowley asked quietly, even the King of Hell humbled by the power of the spell cast.

“I hope so,” Gabriel muttered. “I’d think we’d see something, you know, to know that it worked.”

Everyone looked around the clearing for a moment but nothing seemed out of place. A few of the braver birds had even started chirping again. The sun shone down and no ominous clouds had rolled in. Everyone was still in one piece with no pain or death. The bowl with the ingredients still sat in the middle of the clearing, the ray that had shone down on the smoky quartz point gone. It wasn’t on fire, wasn’t even smoking. It all appeared to be completely normal.

“Maybe it won’t be...,” Dean started to say but was interrupted (again he muttered to himself) by a howling wind. It blew in and seemed to center around the bowl. The wind picked up little pieces of twig and leaf and grass, swirling tightly with the bowl at the epicenter. Cas and Gabriel had to grab onto their respective Winchesters to keep them from being sucked into the whirling tornado that had formed.

A high-pitched scream joined the howling wind and everyone in the clearing covered their ears. The pull of the wind abated a bit though something much more ominous appeared. Smoke started flowing into the clearing, smoke filled with flickers and flashes of dark lightning. The screaming seemed to be coming from the smoke though there were no faces or mouths to be seen. After what felt like an eternity, during which the screaming ratcheted up in pitch, a human form could be seen. It was a female form, long brown hair tangled by the wind. Her sea glass eyes changed color as she blinked, anger sparking in them. Her beautiful face was contorted with rage and an inhuman effort to keep from being drawn in towards the bowl.

“You!” she hissed, catching sight of Crowley. “You did this. We had an alliance!”

“Which you broke,” Crowley shrugged, prudently stepping back as the Darkness was sucked closer and closer to the bowl. “Consider this quits between us.”

The Darkness screamed again, claw-like fingers reaching for Crowley. But she never made it. Instead, her body finally reached the bowl. It started to disintegrate, pieces being pulled away from her body and sucked down into the bowl itself. There was no blood, which was the only thing that kept the sight from being impossibly gruesome. The Darkness’s head was the last thing to be pulled into the bowl, her mouth still open and screaming. Then, a silence so profound it felt like the beginning of the world fell on the clearing. The bowl was smoking slightly, the quartz cracked and all the other ingredients gone. Presumably, they’d been sucked into wherever the Darkness had gone.

“Did we win?” Sam finally asked, disbelief and hope threading through his voice. “Did we defeat that hellion?”


	21. Race

“Seems that way,” Gabriel remarked, walking forward to nudge the bowl with a toe. The cracked smoky quartz point crumbled to dust in the bowl. “Hey, one for the home team.”

While the others looked at the bowl and now-dust stone, Rowena started edging away. There were way too many people who would quite cheerfully kill her right here and now. Since the spell was complete, she was no longer useful. This was the last place she wanted to be. She caught a glimpse of Sam moving to Gabriel’s side before she mumbled a spell to help her escape. A doppelganger, complete down to the windblown hair, appeared where she was standing. The image stood completely still, a slightly curious expression on its face. After looking it over quickly to make sure it would pass, if only for a short time, Rowena cast another spell to give herself a sort of invisibility. True invisibility wasn’t possible and, if it was, would have taken an inordinate amount of power to cast. No, this spell made eyes slide right off her. She was part of the scenery now, nothing important, something that people never even noticed and generally took for granted.

That allowed her to slip away, racing back through the forest to the bunker. She’d left everything in the place even though it had made her twitchy. Carrying the translated spells and her suitcase out to cast the spell would have been suspicious and she doubted anyone would have let her do it. Besides, she was still carrying the Book itself. No one had taken it back from her after finishing the spell. She allowed herself a small grin as the bunker came into sight. There was a worrying trail of smoke lazily curling from the door but Rowena dismissed it for now. Whatever was going on inside could wait until she got her stuff and got out.

Wrenching the door open, Rowena’s nose wrinkled at the scent of burning. Something was on fire inside; apparently, Nadia hadn’t been as gone as she’d appeared. Luckily, whatever it was that was burning hadn’t spread too far yet. Hurrying, Rowena made it back to her room and gathered her things within moments. She stuffed the Book and translated papers into her suitcase and then she was on her way. And none too soon; from deeper in the forest, she could hear raised voices and stomping footsteps. Someone was angry. Turning the opposite direction, Rowena raced into the woods and as far away as she could. While the invisibility-ish spell she had cast would keep casual eyes off her, determined searchers would eventually see right through it. Besides, she couldn’t be caught now. There was a whole world out there sitting on its silver platter, just waiting for her to dig in.

“I’m telling you, she still has the Book,” Crowley snapped as the group made it back to the bunker. “And that damned thing in her hands will wreak more damage than you can believe.”

“Wait, we didn’t leave the door open,” Cas said, eyes narrowing as he saw the door to the bunker wide open. More smoke was belching from the opening, a worrisome black color. “What’s going on?”

Sam swore and hurried inside, covering his mouth and nose with one hand and coughing. He raced down the stairs and tried to find the source of the fire. It was the storage room that had been ransacked. It was burning merrily now, several boxes completely in flames. He heard footsteps behind him and stepped aside to let Dean in. Cas and Gabriel were just behind him and all three gasped as they saw the flames. In just the few seconds since they’d found the fire, it was threatening to spread to the ceiling. A few tongues licked curiously at the doorway, the smoke getting thicker. Dean and Sam kept coughing, standing there in dazed shock. This was home. Who could have done this?

A snap sounded throughout the room and the flames winked out. Another snap and the smoke cleared slowly, seeming to be sucked into the air itself. After coughing one last time, Sam started picking desultorily through the remains of the storage room. Only a few boxes were still intact though each was empty. All the ingredients and artifacts had been piled up and boxes used as kindling to set them on fire. Now that the room was empty of smoke, words could be seen scrawled in deep red on the wall. It said REVENGE.

“So, Rowena?” Sam asked as he studied the red words. “When would she have had time to do this? I mean, we noticed she was pretty quickly, I thought.”

“It may not have been Rowena,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, something pinging at the back of his mind. There’d been energy released the night before, something that was powerful. He’d chosen to ignore it at the time in order to fully focus his attention on other pursuits. Besides, there was enough stuff locked away here that random flarings of power weren’t all that rare. At least to an angel. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked but Gabriel turned away and left. After taking a last glance at the mess in the storage room, he followed. He didn’t want to start cleaning that up. Not yet. Dean let out a deep sigh and started stacking the least damaged things back on shelves. After a smile and a squeeze on his shoulder, Cas left the room to get garbage bags.

“Ah ha,” Gabriel exclaimed triumphantly once he was in Rowena’s room. He’d stood there for a few seconds in silence before Sam joined him, eyes closed and all his senses extended. “There was a spell cast here last night. Something about life. I’d bet all my money it was Nadia who set the fire. You could see she hated being here and she was killed by the Men of Letters.”

“But she was a ghost,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, yeah, she could have done things but it takes a lot of energy for ghosts to manipulate stuff. And she looked pretty faded.”

“It was the spell,” Gabriel explained, a grudging respect in his voice. “Whatever spell Rowena cast brought Nadia back to life. Which I would not have believed had I not seen the remnants of the spell with my own eyes. I thought it wasn’t possible.”

“Great, so we have a witch with a grudge, alive and out there,” Sam muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Plus we have Rowena out there, obviously with the Book because it’s not here. And Crowley. Am I missing anything?”

“At least the Darkness is gone,” Gabriel said cheerfully, moving to Sam and wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. “We can handle two measly witches and a demon.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of Gabriel’s head. “We’ve handled worse. And you and Cas are here now. I know you’re not going anywhere and I doubt Cas is either.”

Gabriel nodded, pulling Sam’s head down and kissing him deeply. Then he stepped back, slapping Sam on the ass before laughing and darting away. Sam laughed and followed. They may as well start cleaning up the storage room. Whatever might come would come in it’s own time. They would deal with it and move on. It was what they always did and what they always would. Besides, they had more family now. Nothing could stop them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming with me on this fanfiction adventure. I enjoyed writing about the Darkness and the possibilities the characters may face in season 11. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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